When Worlds Collide
by Sloane Ranger
Summary: Thirty years on and Jack and Sloane finally face the consequences of helping overthrow Allende. An Alias Law and Order crossover.
1. Chapter 1

This story starts in Season 4 of Alias, somewhere between Détente and Nightingale and goes AU at some point, I'm not entirely sure where. It's a crossover withLaw and Order. I know the L&Ocast line-up doesn't fit in with the timeline set for this season but we're behind here in the UK and it's the most recent one I'm familiar with …and anyway, if the Alias writers can play fast and loose with the timeline why can't I?

I'm not an American or a lawyer so references to stated cases or parts of the penal code are totally fictitious and should not be relied upon!

This was originally published over at SD1 but I thought I'd put it here too, in case anyone doesn't visit that site.I hope you like it. If you do, please review, if you don't, please review and say what you didn't like!

**Disclaimer: The rights to Alias, its related characters and items belong to JJ Abrams, ABC, Touchstone Television, Bad Robot and Buena Vista. The rights to Law and Order, its related characters and items belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. I do not own anything related to Alias or Law and Order. I have, however, created a number of my own characters; I think you'll probably recognise them when they appear. **

**When Worlds Collide**

**Chapter 1**

"Are you sure you want to do this Jack? It will put this office on a direct collision course with the Feds." DA Arthur Branch swirled whisky round his glass.

Executive ADA Jack McCoy nodded. His expression showing his commitment to the Roman statesman, Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus' famous dictum, 'Fiat justitia, ruat coelum' - Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.

"They brutally murdered a US citizen exercising his Constitutional rights."

"Long ago and in a country far away" Branch pointed out.

"There is no Statute of Limitations on murder, Arthur." McCoy reminded him. He took a photograph from the thick folder on his lap and handed it to Branch. "Look what they did. They tortured him, cut off his fingers one by one, then killed him. They have to pay, no matter who they are or who they were working for."

Branch looked at the photograph in distaste. "How do you intend to get round the jurisdictional issue?" he asked, "Last time I checked, Chile wasn't a part of the United States, much less Manhattan."

"State of New York-v-Kruger, 1997. The State Supreme Court held that a District Attorney could prosecute if any part of the crime took place within their jurisdiction. In this case, the operation originated in the CIA Field Office, here in Manhattan."

"I've read the file Jack. There is strong circumstantial evidence of that, but you can't prove they specifically ordered this young man's death."

"There's a direct link between the two acts. I know I can persuade a jury to convict on the evidence we have and I think I can persuade the State Supreme Court that the prosecution falls within Kruger."

"That may not be the only Supreme Court you'll have to persuade if we go ahead." Branch noted dryly. He turned to the third person in the room, who up to then had remained silent. "Serina, what do you think?"

ADA Serina Southerlyn frowned.

"I'm concerned at the big picture." she said, "Should we be prosecuting CIA officers engaged in black operations when we are in the middle of a war on terrorism? What sort of message will that send to others fighting to keep this country safe? And, in post 9/11 America, I'm not as convinced as Jack that we'll actually get a New York jury to convict."

"We're fighting to protect democracy, the rule of law, the right to freedom of belief and expression!" Jack argued passionately, "James Selzer was denied access to the law and killed for exercising his freedom of belief and expression. If we don't punish those in our governmental institutions, including the CIA, who fail to respect those principles, how can we expect people in other parts of the world to take our commitment to them seriously?"

Branch tapped his fingers on the armrest of his easy chair.

"The identifications are solid?" he asked.

McCoy nodded. "Yes, the witness picked them both out of a photo array. He's absolutely certain they were the two men he saw torturing Selzer in the San Sebastian military prison, even after thirty years."

"And they're no longer affiliated to the CIA?"

Serina answered, "Not as far as we can ascertain. They're both senior executives at a Los Angeles bank. We've been unable to trace any current relationship."

Branch came to a decision and downed the rest of his whisky in one gulp.

"Send Briscoe and Green to LA to pick them up. I'll make the necessary arrangements with the Attorney-General of California and the Los Angeles DA's office …and Jack, batten down the hatches, we're about to enter a whole world of trouble!

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Jack Bristow opened the door of his apartment and stepped out to be confronted by three uniformed police officers and an Afro-American man who flashed a detectives' badge at him. Jack just had time to read "New York City Police Department" before it disappeared.

"Jonathan Donahue Bristow, you are under arrest for the murder of James Selzer." the man said.

Jack stood still, allowing himself to be handcuffed, as the NYPD detective continued. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to be speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand these rights?"

The caution born of years of undercover work took over, warning him against saying too much until he had a clearer understanding of the situation.

"Yes." he replied, succinctly.

As he allowed himself to be led away he had only one question on his mind, _who was James Selzer?_

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"…cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

As the grey haired detective recited the Miranda warning, Arvin Sloane felt the familiar, but always unpleasant sensation, of handcuffs being placed on his wrists. His instinctive reaction on being prevented from entering his car by this man and the uniformed police officers accompanying him was that enemies in the Federal Government who had opposed his pardon agreement had sold him out to State authorities. The detective, however, had shown an NYPD badge and Sloane could not remember committing, or even ordering, a killing there. He needed to know more before determining his strategy.

"I do." he replied in response to the detective's question as to whether he understood his rights.

As he was escorted to the waiting police car, he racked his brains trying to recall a James Selzer among his list of victims.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. This is the 2nd Chapter of my Alias/Law and Order crossover story dealing with the delayed fallout from Jack and Sloane's actions in helping overthrow Allende.

I didn't get any reviews for the first chapter so I thought I'd give it another try to see if that was due to the short length of Chapter 1 or maybe the story itself is at fault. Anyway, I hope someone reads and hopefully enjoys this.

**Chapter 2**

Jack McCoy looked up from the pile of papers in front of him as Serena Southerlyn ushered Briscoe and Green into his office.

"Any problems?" he asked.

Lennie Briscoe shook his head, "They came quietly. Didn't even protest their innocence. We took them straight to Central Booking and left them taking advantage of their constitutionally protected right to call a lawyer."

"Something they didn't give Selzer." McCoy observed. "You read them their rights when they were arrested?"

"Yeah." Green said, "And we checked they understood them. They both said they did and we can bring half of LAPD's finest to confirm that"

"Good. They say anything at all?"

Briscoe shrugged, "They said 'Hi' to each other on the plane. Apart from that they went for the strong, silent routine."

"OK. Keep trying to trace the whereabouts of that former prison guard. He may have actually seen Bristow and Sloane kill Selzer."

As Briscoe and Green filed out, McCoy turned to Serena, "Arrange the arraignment for evening court. Bloomberg was active in the anti-Vietnam war movement. He's one of the last liberals. Once he hears the words 'CIA', 'black operations' and 'murder' in the same sentence, he'll order them to be remanded. "

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Sydney sat on a battered plastic seat in the shabby surroundings of the Lower Manhattan Arraignment Court, watching a steady stream of criminal defendants appear through a door at the side of the court, stand before the judge to enter their plea and then be bailed or remanded. Around her, prosecutors and defence lawyers walked in and out of the courtroom and chattered quietly, waiting for their cases to be called. To her mind, the noise and constant movement was more reminiscent of a bus terminal than the dignified surroundings she'd expected of a court of justice. Beside her sat Nadia, her face showing worry mixed with a fierce determination to support her father. Sydney suspected these were reflected in her own expression. In the last 12 hours she felt she had entered a nightmare version of "Through the Looking Glass"…

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_**12 hours earlier**_

_Weiss looked at his watch. "Sloane's late." he observed, causing Sydney to consult hers._

"_So is my father." she frowned, "That's odd; they're both normally very punctual." Out of respect for her sister she didn't add that, as far as she was concerned, punctuality was Sloane's only virtue._

_Sensing her unease, Vaughn picked up the internal phone and dialled Administration. After a short conversation he reported. "Neither of them has left a message."_

_Sydney and Nadia glanced at each other in concern, then both took out their cell phones and dialled their fathers numbers, only to discover that their cells had been turned off, something unheard of for men who were on call 24/7. _

_Less constrained than Sydney in giving his opinion of their boss, Dixon said "Sloane's up to something. He must be!" as he reached for the phone to contact Director Chase._

_Then Nadia's cell rang and Nadia answered, relief written on her face._

"_It's my father's home number." she explained, "Perhaps he's ringing to say he's been delayed."_

_Dixon quietly asked Heyden Chase to hold as he and the others waited expectantly. As they watched, they saw Nadia's expression change. After quietly thanking whoever had rung she ended the call. _

_There was a haunted look in her eyes as she told the others, "That was Mrs. Garcia. She comes in three times a week to clean for my father. She said the neighbours saw him being arrested and driven off in an LAPD police car about an hour and a half ago."_

_Sydney tried to keep her expression neutral as she heard this news but inwardly she felt vindicated. She'd been right about him using APO for some devious purpose of his own. Now he had been found out and he would finally be made to pay for his crimes. Maybe her father had been behind the arrest and that explained his absence? She noticed that Dixon's face had relaxed and there was a satisfied look in his eyes as he relayed this information to Chase, only to see it tighten again as he listened to her response._

_Dixon put down the phone and reported, "Chase says there's no active investigation into Sloane taking place currently and no order for his arrest. She'd know if there was. She also says that if a Federal Agency had been involved they wouldn't have used uniformed officers or a marked police vehicle. She and the CIA can't be involved officially so she wants us to find out what is going on."_

"_I can tell you that!"_

_Everyone turned to Marshall who had been typing feverishly on his terminal, unnoticed by the others. _

"_When Ms. Santos mentioned the LAPD I hacked into their database. Mr Sloane was arrested on a warrant issued by a New York City judge." His expression became almost apologetic as he turned to Sydney, "And I'm afraid he wasn't the only one. There was also a warrant for your Dad. I guess we have to assume he's been arrested as well!"_

_Sydney's stomach clenched, "What's the charge?" she asked._

_Marshall looked serious as he replied, "The same as Mr. Sloane - murder. Of someone named James Selzer …?"_

_**End flashback.**_

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Sydney turned to look at Thirly Wilson, the lawyer the CIA had provided, although, officially, he was retained by the bank that provided APO's cover story. He was talking to the criminal attorney Sloane, less trusting of the US Government's willingness to protect his interests, had privately retained. Seeing her, they broke off their discussion and walked over. Wilson leaned towards both women and spoke quietly.

"The worst will be over soon, Ms. Bristow, Ms. Santos." he said gently. He nodded towards Sloane's lawyer; "Mr. Shapiro and I have agreed a joint defence strategy. This case is a crock. The DA has no jurisdiction in Chile. When the judge hears the facts, we're certain he'll grant bail so they'll be free before the end of the day. Then we can get a motions hearing and have the case dismissed."

Nadia looked at Sloane's attorney, "Won't the judge be unwilling to release someone with my father's past?" she asked.

Jerry Shapiro smiled reassuringly at her, "All references to your father's prior activities were removed from standard law enforcement databases as part of his most recent pardon agreement. As far as the DA and the judge know, your father's never even had a traffic ticket!"

"Docket number 125647, People versus Jonathan Donahue Bristow and Arvin Sloane." the Court Clerk shouted above the noise, "Charge is Murder in the 2nd degree."

With a final smile at the two women, Wilson and Shapiro hurried towards the judge's bench. Sydney's eye's turned to the side door in time to see deputies escort her father and Sloane into the court. Her father looked calm and controlled but she couldn't help noticing his slightly dishevelled appearance and the five-o-clock shadow on his usually clean shaven face. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Sloane's gaze slid past hers' to settle on Nadia. Sydney noted an expression of relief cross his face at seeing Nadia sitting there beside her.

They took their places before the judge who glanced down at them with a bored, seen it all before expression.

"Pleas?" he asked.

"Not Guilty." Wilson and Shapiro spoke on behalf of their clients.

"Surprise, surprise!" the judge noted.

Sydney read the judge's name off the plate in front of him, Simon Bloomberg. She had to stop herself from screaming at him. How could he make sarcastic comments when her father's future was at stake?

"Your Honour, the People ask for remand. This was a brutal and premeditated act. The defendants, tortured, mutilated and then killed the victim in cold blood."

Sydney looked at the attractive, fair haired woman, who clearly represented the District Attorney's office, and hated her.

Wilson spoke on behalf of both defence lawyers. "Your Honour, this case is a non-starter. The DA's office has no jurisdiction. The alleged crime took place in Chile for goodness sake! Mr. Bristow and Mr. Sloane are both highly reputable businessmen with family and strong ties to the community. Mr. Shapiro and I ask for ROR on behalf of both our clients."

Judge Bloomberg showed the first sign of interest Sydney had seen in the hour she had sat in the court.

"Chile, Ms. Southerlyn?" he asked.

"Both defendants were part of a CIA black operations unit deployed to support the military coup against President Allende of Chile in 1973. The People can show that the operation was organised and run out of the CIA Field Office here in Manhattan, giving us jurisdiction under the State Supreme Court's decision in New York-v-Kruger. Mr. Bristow and Mr. Sloane were arrested in California. Although Mr. Sloane was born and raised in Brooklyn, neither have any current ties to this city. In addition, both are trained agents, experienced in crossing borders covertly and are likely to have contacts capable of providing them with false identification. The People believe they constitute a flight risk."

Sydney saw Bloomberg give her father and Sloane a long, appraising stare before turning back to the woman he had called Ms Southerlyn.

"When did Arthur Branch develop this quixotic streak?" he asked. Then before she had a chance to answer, he ruled, "Defendants remanded to custody."

"Your Honour!"

Bloomberg raised his hand to interrupt Shapiro, "You can renew the applications at the motions hearing I'm sure both of you are already planning."

Sydney reached out and held Nadia's hand tightly as they both sat in horrified disbelief.

As Jack and Sloane turned to be led off to the holding pens under the court for transport to Riker's Island, their faces were impassive. When they caught their daughters' eyes, however, they attempted a reassuring smile.

TBC.

**GLOSSARY**

**Arraignment** - A court proceeding at which a person is informed of the charges against him or her.

**Bail **- Money ordered to be paid to the court in exchange for release from jail while a criminal case is pending.

**Central Booking** - Police Department office where fingerprints and photographs are taken after an arrest.

**Court Clerk **- Supervises the court personnel and is in charge of the court's paper work. Also swears in witnesses and calls the cases on the calendar.

**Decision – **A determination by one or more senior judges that has force of law.

**Holding Pens – **Secure area within a court where defendants are held pending transportation to a jail.

**Hearing** - A court proceeding where testimony is given, exhibits are reviewed, and/or legal arguments are made, to help a judge decide an issue in a case.

**Motion** - A request for a judicial decision.

**Murder in the 2nd degree** – A murder committed in circumstances showing a depraved indifference to human life.

**Remand** - To be sent to jail.

**Riker's Island** – New York City jail holding those awaiting trial and those sentenced to short terms of imprisonment.

**ROR** – (release on recognizance To be released from jail without bail while a case is pending.

**Warrant** – An official order issued by a judge

Definitions mostly obtained from the New York State Criminal Justice System Handbook.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay but here's chapter 3 of my Jack/Sloane story. There's a legal glossary at the end for anyone unfamiliar with legal terms.**

**Hope you like this chapter.**

**Chapter 3**

When Arthur Branch had warned Jack McCoy about the trouble the Manhattan DA's office would experience, even he hadn't expected it to come this fast or this heavy. The call from Washington had arrived a mere hour after Bristow and Sloane's arraignment and a meeting had been arranged for first thing today. It was a high-powered Federal deputation, led by the senior assistant to the Attorney-General, including representatives not only from Justice but from the State Department and a man, introduced only as "Mr Morton", who Branch strongly suspected was from Langley. He was coming to the conclusion that Serena had been wrong when she said Bristow and Sloane had no current affiliation to the CIA. The meeting had been going on for nearly an hour and a half now, with the Feds doing most of the talking.

"…trial will undermine national security by revealing classified information about CIA operations." the senior assistant was saying.

"Oh, come on." Jack McCoy responded. "This crime took place over thirty years ago. What details about the operation could possibly threaten us now?"

"Mr Morton" spoke, "Any trial will bring out information on counter-terrorism and counter insurgency tactics still in use today. This would be of immense value to Al-Qaeda and our other enemies."

"Tactics like torture you mean?" asked Serena.

"The US doesn't use torture. We have never used torture. Nor did we have any involvement in the coup against Allende. We admit the men you've arrested were CIA operatives but they were in Chile purely as observers." one of the State Department representatives said, "As New Yorker's surely you can see the harm that could be caused to the fight against terrorism and our ability to protect the homeland if details of CIA operational protocols come out."

Branch interceded, "This is purely a murder trial. You have my word we have no intention of blowing CIA tactics."

"It's not just the issue of what happens if there's a trial that's causing concern in Washington." said the man from State, "There was no CIA conspiracy, no order to kill this guy …Selzer, and we believe your case will be dismissed at the motions hearing due to lack of jurisdiction. The PR fallout, however, will be massive. The Democrats and liberals will take full advantage of it and the impact in South America and elsewhere could be immensely damaging to the reputation of our country, especially at a time; quite frankly, we don't want to make any more enemies."

"Maybe Mr Branch and his colleagues don't care about that." speculated "Mr Morton", "New York's full of liberals. Maybe Mr Branch thinks his chances of being re-elected will be improved by having a pop at the CIA and reviving those conspiracy theories about the CIA and US support for Pinochet."

Branch lost his temper, "I've been a life-long Republican." he thundered, his Texan drawl becoming stronger, "People knew that when they elected me to this office and when I come up for re-election, I'll stand on my record as DA …all of it. If the gentleman from Langley thinks I'm doing this because going after the CIA is politically popular, then he clearly wasn't here to see the Twin Towers fall and knows nothing of this city, its people or me. This meeting is ended!"

The A-G's senior assistant spoke, "The Federal government provides a lot of money and support to local law enforcement. All that could be put at risk if you persist with this prosecution."

"Lady, didn't your boss warn to never threaten a Texan? Now, get out!"

He watched as they filed out and, when the door had closed behind them, he turned to McCoy,

"Jack, you know I stopped you from subpoenaing CIA records. Well I've changed my mind. If they won't give them up voluntarily, get a warrant to search their offices', raid them if you have to, but get those records. And go see Bristow and Sloane and offer them a deal if they give up their superior. If those sons of bitches want to play hardball we'll give 'em a contest they'll never forget!"

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_You said they would get bail!" she shouted angrily._

"_I'm sorry," Shapiro said, "Had it been any other judge than Bloomberg they would have. He's a liberal and should have been outraged by the prosecutorial overreach here. Unfortunately, his dislike of covert CIA intervention in other countries trumped that. Now, we'll have to get an early motions hearing and renew the bail application there."_

Nadia returned to the present. Wilson and Shapiro had explained that New York City DOC regulations entitled inmates to a visit from their relatives and friends within twenty-four hours of being incarcerated. Following their directions she and Sydney had taken a cab to the Queens Abutment and caught the bus to the Riker's Island Control Building. She looked out the window and saw they were crossing the causeway that provided the only access to the Island. Nadia looked around. She was unsurprised to see that most of their fellow passengers were Afro-Americans and Hispanics. Jails were always disproportionately full of those too poor to make bail or hire a decent lawyer. This had been true in Argentina; it was true here and was probably true everywhere.

She glanced across at her sister and was concerned to see her face lacking its normal self assurance and confidence. Of course, Sydney had probably never visited a prison in anything other than an official capacity before, she, on the other hand, had spent her youth on the streets where it was an everyday part of life. Her eyes turned to the parcel resting on Sydney's lap. She knew what was in it because she was holding its' duplicate. Shapiro and Wilson had explained that only two changes of clothing a week were issued to jail inmates at City expense but friends and relatives could supplement this allowance. They had gone shopping that morning and bought sufficient hard wearing, not too expensive T shirts, shorts and socks, white, as required by jail regulations, for their fathers to have a clean set every day. They were each also carrying a $100 in cash, the maximum amount allowed, to deposit in their inmate accounts so they could buy toiletries, soft drinks, candy and other basic items from the commissary.

The bus drew to a halt outside the Control Building and the two of them followed the other passengers inside. Riker's Island was actually a complex of ten separate jails, each holding a different type and custody level of inmate. They joined the queue for the maximum security facility where all those charged with murder were held. When they reached the front, an officer thrust a blank form at them. They filled it in, their names and addresses, names and custody numbers of inmates to be visited and their relationship to them. Once it was completed the officer snatched it back and consulted the computer in front of her. She tore off the top copy and handed back the duplicate.

"Over there." she grunted, waving towards a growing crowd of people who appeared to be waiting for something.

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Sydney sat on the hard, uncomfortable stool which, like the table in front of her, was bolted to the floor. The last hour and a half had been among the most frustrating and humiliating experiences of her life. She and Nadia had been herded from place to place, joined what seemed like endless successions of queues, been made to fill in yet more forms, answer ever more questions about their reasons for being there and their exact relationship with the men they wanted to visit, had their outer clothing and purses taken away to be stored in lockers and finally been searched by people whose attitude showed all too clearly they regarded anyone who wanted to visit a prisoner as being themselves little better than a criminal. It had brought home to her the difference between visiting a custodial facility as a government agent and doing it as a private citizen.

Now she waited in the shabby and impersonal visiting room, staring at the barred door at the opposite end of the room from which she and Nadia had entered. Her feelings were an odd mixture of anticipation at the thought of speaking to her father for the first time since this nightmare had begun and embarrassment at seeing him here, under these circumstances. She watched as, with a loud buzz and harsh metallic clang, the door slid open admitting Jack and Sloane with their escorting officer. They were dressed in the same beige paper jumpsuits with slippers covering their bare feet as the other inmates in the visiting room. She studied them as they were brought over. They looked alert and well but there was a wariness about their movements and a tired look around their eyes. They were both unshaven and lacking their usual careful grooming. Her heart ached for her father. She glanced over to her sister and read the same feelings there.

When they had sat down, the guard grabbed the visiting form from her hand, glanced at the wall clock and scrawled 15:56 across it.

"You've got two hours from now. You can embrace and engage in other physical contact of a socially acceptable nature but your hands must be in plain sight at all times. Violation will lead to your visiting privileges being suspended and the inmates being disciplined." he warned mechanically, then marched away.

Sloane immediately got up and drew Nadia into a hug. "Sweetheart." he said, placing a kiss on her forehead, "It's good to see you." He sat down again but continued to hold Nadia's hand.

Jack, less demonstrative, nodded towards her, "Sydney." he acknowledged.

"Dad."

"How are you holding up?" All four of them spoke together.

There was an uncomfortable pause. The topic that was at the forefront of everyone's mind was the one they were forbidden to talk about. Shapiro and Wilson had warned them not to discuss the murder charges in case they were overheard by guards or jailhouse snitches.

"We've brought you some extra underwear and made up your commissary accounts to the maximum allowed." Sydney dropped into the silence.

A look of shame at this return to an almost childlike state of dependence on others, especially their daughter's, flickered across Jack and Sloane's faces before they smoothed it away.

Eventually Jack asked, "How are things at the bank?"

Sydney recognised the reference to APO's cover story.

"Everything's under control." she replied, "The Bank President has been very supportive. She's made Dixon temporary Head of the Division and told us not to take on any new clients until this is over. She says to tell you that the bank is behind you 100. You'll both continue to be paid and we've been given leave of absence on full pay."

"What about the loan we were due to discuss the morning we were arrested?" Sloane asked.

"That's been passed to another Division." Nadia said.

After that, the conversation turned to personal topics.

Where were they staying, what room number, was it comfortable, what amenities did it have, what was the telephone number? Jack and Sloane wanted to know

Were they being treated well, what cell blocks were they assigned to, did they have cellmates; if so what were they like? Sydney and Nadia asked.

Sloane spoke of places of interest they might like to visit while they were in New York. Jack offered a few other suggestions.

CO's patrolled the visiting room area, listening in to their conversation as they came within earshot while the hands of the clock turned. Eventually, one of them came over, checked the time on the visiting form against that shown on the clock.

"Time's up." he announced, then, turning to Jack and Sloane, "Let's go."

Sloane kissed Nadia on the cheek while Jack clumsily hugged Sydney, then the sisters watched as their fathers were led away to disappear through the barred door which closed behind them with a clang.

They were silent on the journey back to their hotel, each busy with their own thoughts, trying to sort out their feelings. As they entered the lobby they recognised two familiar figures. They went over, buried their faces in Vaughn and Weiss's chests and sought comfort and support in their arms.

**Glossary**

**Attorney-General** – Chief legal officer of the Federal or a State government. Responsible for advising the government on all legal matters.

**CO **– Correctional Officer (Prison/Jail Guard)

**DOC** – Department of Corrections (Official body with responsibility for management and running of jails/prisons)

**Jurisdiction** – area over which legal authority extends

**Snitch** – Informer (Slang)

**Subpoena **– legal order summoning a witness or requiring evidence to be submitted to a court.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jack Bristow lay awake, listening to the snores from the bunk above. His cellmate was a butcher from Queen's who had stabbed his wife to death during a domestic argument. He had plea bargained the charge down to Man. One and an agreed sentence of seven to fourteen years. Now he was waiting to be formally sentenced. Jack appreciated the unintended irony of the situation.

_Two wife killers in a cage_, he thought.

He looked round the cage, the bars casting shadows in the prison's dim, night time lighting. A 7' by 9' cell containing two men, a combination toilet and sink unit, a fixed desk with a floor mounted stool and a shelf above it and a small storage unit for such clothing and personal items they were permitted. He looked at his watch, 5:55. Only another five minutes to the wake up call.

Unlike his previous experiences of incarceration he had been allowed to keep his watch, could buy personal items from the commissary and have books and newspapers sent in. He could move freely within the cell block for much of the day and use the adjacent exercise yard. This meant he could take a shower when he wanted to, watch the communal television, play cards or board games and keep fit, even telephone Sydney. Limited as these privileges were, they were a lot better than the mind sapping monotony of solitary confinement. The downside was sharing a confined space with a complete stranger, enduring the constant noise, fear, anger, hopelessness and repressed violence of too many people in too small a space and the constant vigilance he had to maintain against fellow inmates as well as guards. All told, the experience was probably no better, if no worse.

He and Sloane had spent the past week considering scenarios. Although they had not entirely discounted Sloane's initial suspicions that he had been set up by enemies within the Federal Government, it was not their favoured theory. Given the mountain of evidence of more recent criminal activities, the Government was unlikely to use a thirty year old case against him, especially one where the facts were, to say the least, embarrassing to the CIA. Jack's own continued imprisonment also argued against this explanation. They had considered whether Elena had discovered they were searching for her and had orchestrated their arrest. The extent of her resources was unknown but if she could keep both Sydney and Nadia under surveillance for most of their lives, she was certainly capable of framing them. The Chilean operation, however, had been classified as Delta Red 1 and it was difficult to see how she would have had access to enough details to fake a convincing case. In fact, the most likely scenario was the most obvious. Somehow, certain information regarding the operation had come to the attention of the New York authorities and their arrest had been driven by some publicity hungry local prosecutor. What he had and how he had obtained it was another question. They expected to know more soon. Then they could start developing a counter strategy.

The wake up call sounded throughout the block and simultaneously the harsh neon day time lighting came on. Following the routine into which he had fallen over the last week; Jack got up, straightened his bunk, used the toilet, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He dressed in the jail issue shirt and pants, pulled on some socks Sydney had bought him and a pair of sneakers, and then stood against the cell bars. He heard his cell mate climb out of his bunk and lumber over to stand beside him. They remained there while a guard walked past, glanced into the cell and made a quick notation on his clipboard. Eventually the PA system announced, "Head count cleared."

A buzzer sounded and hundreds of cell doors slid open with a thunderous clash. Jack left the cell and joined the line of other inmates making their way to the mess hall. On the bottom tier Sloane was leaning against the open doorway of his cell. He levered himself up and fell into step beside him.

"Hopefully we'll learn what the DA hopes to gain by this pressure play of incarcerating us later today." Sloane observed, "Does he expect us to take a deal for a reduced sentence, or one of us to turn State's Evidence against the other, or does he want us to incriminate others?"

"It's useless to speculate at this point." Jack replied, "We'll know once we've met with his representatives." He paused, and then went on, "Arvin, I don't need to remind you that this scenario is a classic illustration of the Prisoners Dilemma in Game Theory?"

Sloane gave him an enigmatic smile but didn't reply.

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"The DA's office just called. They want to know if you've made any progress in tracing that Chilean prison guard." Lieutenant van Buren said.

Detective Ed Green shrugged, "It's a dead end. Do you know how many Rodriguez's there are in the phone book? Four hundred and fifty eight."

"And that's just in Manhattan." his partner Lennie Briscoe added dryly, "We're talking thousands if we include the other four Boroughs …and that's assuming he wasn't visiting from out of town when our witness recognised him and that he's still using his real name; which I wouldn't be if I'd been involved in torturing and killing hundreds of my fellow countrymen!"

"We've also tried the Chilean embassy and Chilean community groups, but no luck." Green said.

"That's what I've always admired about you two." van Buren replied, "Your unfailing optimism. Go back and re-interview the wit. See if he remembers anything else that could help. But before you do, the DA's office has finally reached a deal with the Feds on the disclosure of their records. You're to go to the CIA building and observe while they pack them in secure containers. Then you and two CIA employees are to escort them to Judge Reinhardt's office. She'll review them for relevance to the case."

"Right." Green said cynically, "and it's not like they haven't had time to sanitise their papers. After all it's only been a week!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she and Jack McCoy had sat down to decide how they were going to play these meetings they had decided on a divide and rule strategy. The physically imposing Jonathan Bristow had appeared the toughest so Mc Coy had taken him. Now she was sitting in the interview room with Arvin Sloane and his lawyer. He appeared older that the age given in his file and the disposable beige paper jumpsuit, worn as a precaution against smuggling by all prisoners receiving visitors, was a size too large, making him seem small and helpless. Remembering the pictures of James Selzer's bloody and mutilated body she would have found it difficult to believe the man in front of her could have committed an act of such brutality if it hadn't been for her experience in the District Attorney's office.

"Mr Sloane," she began, "I am ADA Serena Southerlyn. You should know that we have found witnesses who saw you and Mr Bristow torture and kill Mr Selzer and their evidence, supported by documentation, will stand up even after thirty-three years. You are fifty-six years old and the sentence for 2nd degree murder is twenty five years to life imprisonment. Given the average life expectancy of American men, it is highly unlikely you will ever breathe the sweet air of freedom ever again. On the other hand, if you co-operate I can offer a substantial reduction in sentence. You have a daughter; you could be free in time to help your grandchildren with their high school homework."

Jerry Shapiro interrupted. "Ms. Southerlyn, you're jumping the gun. First off, you have to get this case past a motions hearing on the jurisdictional issue. I believe you'll fail. Second, in the unlikely event a court agrees you do have jurisdiction to prosecute, you have to prove my client murdered Selzer. You may believe your witnesses will stand up, I wonder what a jury will think after they've been cross-examined."

Serena looked at Sloane, "Don't listen to your attorney sir; he's the one who's over confident."

"What is your offer, Ms Southerlyn?" Sloane asked. He held up his hand to stop Shapiro from protesting, "Let's hear her out, Jerry."

Serena took a deep breath, "Give us the names of your superiors in the operation, testify against them and your accomplice and we'll let you plead out to Man One, eight to fifteen years."

She was surprised to see Sloane settle back in his chair and grin at her.

"And this is a one off, non repeatable offer, available to only one of us. A colleague of yours is interviewing Jack Bristow even as we speak and I should tell all now, before Jack takes the deal. Correct?"

Serena felt more unsettled than she had in a long time. This man was not acting according to type. He was a middle aged, white professional. After a week in jail he should be in culture shock; not sitting calmly, accurately predicting the rest of her presentation.

The smile left Sloane's face and he leaned forward, staring at her intently. His body language changed in an instant and Serena found herself looking into the eyes of a predator. She wondered how she had ever thought him harmless. She suddenly felt cold. She had sat facing mass murderers, serial killers, professional hitmen; but none of them had intimidated her the way this man was doing just by sitting there.

"Ms Southerlyn, you are offering me the certainty of a prison sentence. Why should I take it when I have every reason to believe the motions hearing will rule against you or a jury will find me Not Guilty? In either of those cases, I go free."

She tried to keep her voice calm as she replied, "You are looking at dying in prison if your accomplice takes the deal."

Sloane settled back and he once again seemed the small, insignificant man he'd appeared to be at the start of the interview. The change was so complete Serena wondered if he was totally sane.

_No_, she told herself firmly, _he's trying to mess with your head_.

"You don't know Jack Bristow do you?" was all Sloane said.

"I'll see you both in court." with that, Serena got up and left the room.

-------------------------------------------

Once the door closed, Sloane turned to Shapiro.

"Jerry, please find out everything you can about Ms Southerlyn and her colleague. Their backgrounds, home addresses, family, weaknesses. I think we need to take out some insurance."

Shapiro nodded, "I really thought you were considering the deal for a time there."

Sloane shrugged, "I was curious but it was never an option. If I had taken it, the Federal Government would have arrested me for violating my pardon agreement on my release and then I'd be facing an appointment with the needle again."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Detectives Briscoe and Green, sir."

The PA ushered them into the office and a middle aged man rose from an easy chair. He didn't offer to shake hands and neither did they. The detectives noticed that they appeared to have interrupted a meeting with two attractive young women, who were sitting on a couch facing him.

Briscoe looked around, "This is a really nice office Director Healy but we're here to monitor the packing and transportation of the records subpoenaed in New York-v-Bristow and Sloane."

"You got their ID Jane?" Healy asked. After receiving her nod, he turned back to the detectives and said, "I'll escort you to the file room after your security clearance has been confirmed."

"That wasn't in the agreement." Green pointed out, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Detectives, I am under orders from Washington to co-operate. But I'll be damned if I let two complete strangers into a secure area without checking them out first. While we wait, let me introduce Ms Bristow and Ms Santos. They're the daughters of the two former CIA officers you're treating like common criminals."

Briscoe and Green murmured an acknowledgement of the introduction. The women were looking at them in disgust and contempt but that wasn't surprising. No matter how personally law abiding or tough on crime they were when it came to others; the families of criminal defendants almost never felt those principles should apply to their nearest and dearest.

"Do you feel proud, staging a dawn raid and transporting our fathers the length of the country without even letting them phone to say what was happening?" asked the smaller of the two, Ms Santos. They noticed that she had a slight and very attractive accent.

Green shrugged, "We were doing our job, ma'am. A warrant was issued and we executed it in accordance with the law." he answered.

"The evidence all points to your fathers. Selzer's parents have been seeking justice for their son's death for over thirty years. How would you feel if someone close to you had been murdered and the perp. was still walking around? Wouldn't you want them to pay for what they did? If your fathers didn't kill him, they have the opportunity to convince a jury of that at their trial."

Lennie Briscoe noticed Bristow's daughter eyes become haunted. She suddenly looked as if she'd been punched in the stomach and he knew that something he'd said had hit home. He decided to follow up his advantage.

"Do you remember your father ever mentioning a Rodriguez, Ms Bristow?" he asked, "Perhaps an old colleague or friend?"

Ms Bristow shook her head distractedly. He turned to the other woman only to receive a glare in return.

Just then the PA returned, "They both check out, sir."

"OK." said Healy, "Follow me. You are to observe only. If you touch anything in the file room or in any secure area the deal's off."

"What if we want to scratch an itch?" asked Green sarcastically as they followed Healy out.

Once the door had closed Sydney and Nadia looked at each other.

_Rodriguez,_ they mouthed.

**Glossary**

**Cross-Examination **– Questioning of a witness by the lawyer who did not call them as a witness.  
**Man. One **– slang for 1st degree Manslaughter. (With intent to cause serious physical injury to another person, they cause that person's death).  
**Perp** – Slang for perpetrator (person who committed the crime)  
**Plea Bargain **– an agreement between the defendant and the DA to resolve the case without a trial.  
**Prisoners Dilemma **– Game Theory concept. If you type it into your search engine there are plenty of sites that describe it.  
**State's Evidence **– person charged with a crime who co-operates with the prosecution in return for a lighter sentence.  
**Wit** – slang for witness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"…substantial reduction in sentence ...Man. One …give up your boss …eight to fifteen years …won't oppose parole …"

Jack Bristow sat with his lawyer at his side, his face carefully impassive as he appraised the man opposite. The fact that they shared the same first name had caused him a moment of genuine amusement.

He'd introduced himself as Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy so it seemed likely he'd drawn the senior of the two prosecutors. McCoy was carelessly dressed, wore his hair longer than currently fashionable and it was somewhat untidy, so he was not concerned with appearances. His age was difficult to judge but at a guess he was a few years younger than himself, perhaps late forties or early fifties. Wilson had told him that McCoy was an experienced homicide prosecutor with a reputation for making difficult cases, so he was clearly very good at his job.

Although McCoy's face gave nothing away and his voice was even, Jack sensed a wave of dislike so strong it seemed almost personal emanating towards him and wondered if this was the reason he was so successful as a prosecutor. He was clearly a passionate man and people in the grip of passion were ruthless, willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve their objective. This man had the potential to be a dangerous adversary he decided.

"Mr McCoy," he interrupted, "I have no doubt that the kind of person you normally try this rather childish carrot and stick approach with are very impressed by it but, unfortunately for you, I am not. So far I've heard nothing to persuade me you're in a position to successfully carry out your threat to imprison me for life."

McCoy looked confident as he replied, "Oh, we have the evidence, as you will find out if you let this go to trial. And are you sure that Mr Sloane will take the same view? This offer is available to only one of you. Do you want to be the one to grow old and die in Attica, while he's out there enjoying his freedom?"

Although he had only called McCoy's interrogation childish to see if he could elicit a reaction, it was certainly basic. The first technique taught to CIA recruits. The reference to Sloane, however, was a cause for concern. He knew that Arvin would be no more intimidated than he was, but there was the possibility that he might consider his agenda best served by co-operating. The problem at the bottom of the Prisoners Dilemma was one of trust. Could he trust Sloane? Despite the remnants of their former friendship and their current alliance against Elena he couldn't be sure. _Arvin knows he won't benefit in the long term by betraying the CIA under these circumstances _he told himself _and his affection for Nadia seems genuine. He won't make any deal that would leave her unprotected from Elena._ He must continue on the basis that Sloane would play out the game to provide a win-win scenario for them both.

"_If _it gets to court." he corrected McCoy, "Mr Wilson here tells me that you have a very questionable jurisdictional issue to overcome first. Why are you proceeding with such a difficult case? I'm sure there's enough crime and violence being committed here in Manhattan to keep you occupied."

McCoy's eyes lit up and Jack realised he'd been right about the man being motivated by passion.

"Because this is a country run according to laws and you broke them. If those acting on behalf of the government are allowed to get away with breaking the law, it undermines the very basis on which this nation was founded, destroys peoples trust in those laws and allows others to justify their crimes against us."

Jack gave him a cynical smile. "What people don't know doesn't hurt them," he replied, "and sometimes extraordinary measures have to be taken to protect this nation from its enemies and ensure the safety of its citizens. If there was a time bomb hidden in Manhattan large enough to kill and injure thousands of people and you had a man in custody who knew its location, wouldn't you feel that any means used to get him to tell you its location were justified, including torture?"

McCoy showed his disgust openly for the first time. "James Selzer was an idealistic kid, not a terrorist with a time bomb. You tortured him to get information on the locations of people who were already beaten and on the run. There was no justification for what you did and I will make you pay for your crime for the rest of your life unless you give me someone else higher up."

Jack realised that he had learnt as much as he was going to. He looked at the clock on the wall, his watch having been taken off him in the strip room with the rest of his normal prison clothing. "The commissary will be closing shortly and I've almost run out of the deodorant and shampoo I was issued when I arrived. If I don't go now, I'll have to wait another two days for an opportunity to buy more. I see no point in continuing this conversation."

The two men locked eyes for a long moment. It was McCoy who looked away first but Jack didn't make the mistake of thinking it was in defeat. He got up saying, "Mr Bristow, you've just made one of the biggest mistakes of your life." Then left the room.

"What was all that about Jack?" Thirly Wilson asked his client. "I thought I was back in Philosophy 101 at times there."

"Obtaining a preliminary personality profile on our opponent." he replied. "Thirly, get the CIA to put together a file on Mr McCoy. I need to know as much about him as I can."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Serena Southerlyn leaned against the desk outside the Rikers Island maximum security facility attorney visit area, waiting for Jack McCoy to finish his interview with Bristow. She hoped it was more productive than hers had been with Sloane. Eventually he emerged from one of the interview rooms and was buzzed through the gate. The expression on his face told her his interview had been frustrating and as fruitless as her own. They both stood and watched, as Bristow and Sloane were escorted out of the interview rooms, noticing as they did so the quick look each man gave the other as they shared some silent communication before they were led away to be strip searched and taken back to their cell block deeper within the prison. Then they turned to sign out in the logbook.

"Oh, you were here to interview the 'Langley Mafia', counsellors." the guard behind the desk observed.

McCoy turned and raised his eyebrows at the CO questioningly.

"That's what I call them," he explained, "I was on duty in Intake when they were processed in and strip searched them. You won't believe the scars I found on their bodies. If those guys dished it out like you say they did, they can sure take it as well. Gun shots, knife wounds, burns and others I can't even begin to identify. Some of them were recent too. Let me tell you, I've been in this job for over twenty years and they may look like bankers, but I've seen guys come through here belonging to some of the toughest gangs in this city and none of them showed anywhere near the amount of punishment they've been through."

"You sound like you admire them." Serena observed.

The guard shrugged, "You gotta respect people who lay it on the line and do what it takes to protect our country from its enemies, especially when they shed their blood for it."

"And what about when it comes to shedding the blood of innocent people'?" McCoy asked, with barely repressed anger in his voice.

"Hey, I do my job. They don't get any special favours from me. I'm just saying that even if they broke the law, they're not really criminals."

"You've got them in segregation or on suicide watch?" Serena asked.

"Naw. They're in general population. They were seen by the nurse during processing. He said they weren't suicidal and we don't have enough space to segregate anyone unless it's really necessary."

"They don't exactly fit the profile of the average jail inmate. Aren't they in danger from the other prisoners?"

The guard chuckled, "A couple of days after they arrived there was an altercation in the showers. By the time the CO's got there, Bristow and Sloane were the only ones left standing. They were surrounded by five gang bangers from the Latin Kings in various stages of unconsciousness. One of them had to be taken to the Infirmary and did an overnight there. Since then the word's got out and the other inmates leave them alone."

McCoy looked outraged, "They weren't disciplined?" he asked.

The other man shrugged, "The Latin Kings all said they slipped. We couldn't prove different."

The exit door buzzed open and McCoy and Serena walked out into the fresh air. McCoy was quietly seething as Serena said, "He's probably not alone in thinking they're not really criminals Jack."

"You got nothing out of Sloane?" When she shook her head, he went on, "Then we need to start changing people's minds. Withdraw our objection to the early motions hearing and begin preparing for it. The jury pool is out there. We should influence it."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door opened on its chain and an anxious face peered out at them. Once Green and Briscoe were recognised, the door closed while the chain was removed, then opened wide to let them in.

"Excusa." the haggard woman said, "We are taking precautions. Eduardo is worried about what will happen if they find out he is a witness in this case."

"The two men who murdered your friend are in jail. They can't harm you or your husband." Briscoe said gently.

Eduardo Alvarez, a delicate looking man with thinning grey hair, rose to greet them, "And what about when you have to tell them my name?" he demanded, "You have to do that, yes? Even if those men cannot harm my family or me; there is still Rodriguez or the CIA may send someone."

"We discussed this before Mr Alvarez." Ed Green responded. "The DA has to give them your name and a copy of your statement. That's called Discovery. Under our law, he also has to tell the defence lawyers about how you threatened that guy with a knife because that could impeach your testimony. That is, make you out to be a bad guy whose word can't be trusted." he explained in response to Alvarez's confused look. "But the DA will prepare you to give your evidence before the trial so you'll be ready for their questions and we'll put you and Mrs Alvarez in a safe house under 24-hour protection before we pass on your details to the defence. We'll make sure you'll both be safe."

Alvarez relaxed, "I want to see the animals who murdered Jaime punished, but please make sure Benita is safe. That is all I ask."

"You'll both be protected. You have our word, sir." Lennie Briscoe replied, "Now, it'll help if we can get hold of Rodriguez. Is there anything you haven't told us? Maybe something that only came to you after we spoke the last time?"

"I told you everything. I was walking down the street and there he was, walking towards me like he didn't have a care in the world. He still had the same arrogant strut he used to have when he was treating us prisoners worse than dogs. I recognised him immediately but he went right past me without a second glance, like all the times he dragged me out of my cell and attached electrodes to my body hadn't happened!"

"OK. Now, did he look like he knew where he was going, or did he look like a stranger to the city?" Green asked.

Alvarez gave a broad shrug, "I don't know. But I think he must know Manhattan quite well. He was carrying a dry cleaning bag and people put their laundry into local shops, yes?"

"Yes." confirmed Briscoe, "Do you remember the name on the bag?"

"Summit Dry Cleaners. I know the shop. It is a few blocks away from where I saw him."

"You've been a big help. Thanks. We'll be in touch. You've got the precinct number. If you think of anything else or have concerns for your safety, call us straight away."

As they left the apartment, Green turned to Briscoe, "Dry Cleaners usually keep a record of customers' names and addresses."

Briscoe nodded his agreement, "Uh Huh. With any luck we'll be making the acquaintance of Mr Rodriguez very soon."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

".. Yeah, Rodriguez. No first name but he's probably connected to my father and Sloane through Chile somehow." Sydney said down the phone.

Marshall's voice was doubtful as it came across the wire, "OK Syd. I'll do what I can, but it's a long shot. Rodriguez is a very common Spanish name. Maybe if I used the CIA computer and cross referenced his name with those of your Dad and Mr Sloane? The problem is that like, 1973. That's practically BC …'Before Computers.'" he explained, "They were still using mainframes then and a lot of stuff was either lost or never transferred over."

"Just try your best." Sydney's voice was tired, "I know if anyone can find this guy, it's you."

"OK. I'm running the search parameters now. Err... how are you and Nadia bearing up?" Marshall asked shyly.

"We're fine. We're not the ones in jail, facing a murder charge." she replied, somewhat sharper than she meant. Then, "Sorry Marshall, we're both worried about our fathers. I'm glad Vaughn and Weiss visited. It's just too bad they couldn't have stayed longer."

"Yippee!" Marshall's voice was triumphant, "I've got a hit. Diego Rodriguez. He's recorded as a local asset of Mr Bristow and Mr Sloane during the 1970's. He was a member of the Secret Police, the DINA. Oh, he seems to have done well for himself. He was a Corporal at the time of the coup and ended up a Colonel. We helped him enter this country a few years ago, after the Chilean courts charged Pinochet with human rights abuses. That's why there's a record. I got an address, Apartment 4, 101, East 10th Street."

"Thanks Marshall!" Sydney said, relieved.

"Err, Syd, be careful. I'm reading some stuff about this guy and, well …he's not the sort you want to meet in a dark alley. Know what I'm saying?"

"We'll be careful." she promised as she put the phone down.

Nadia came over and put her hand on Sydney's shoulder. "What that policeman said earlier, about wanting justice for the murder of a loved one? I'm sorry. This must be hard for you."

Sydney smiled at her. "My father didn't do this, or, if he did, Selzer must have been an enemy of the United States and deserved it. That must go for your father too, this time, because they were partners. Now, let's go see Colonel Rodriguez."

TBC

**Glossary**

**Attica** – Name of maximum security prison in New York State.  
**Discovery **– A process lawyers use to discover information about the other sides' case.  
**Impeach** – Discrediting a witness by showing they are not telling the truth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sydney knocked on the door. There was no response, although she could hear someone moving around inside. She looked at her sister.

"Senor Rodriguez," Nadia called out in Spanish, "we are Arvin Sloane's and Jack Bristow's daughters. We need to speak to you about them. We know you worked with them in the 1970's. We just want to ask you some questions about them during that time."

There was a pause, then the sound of feet approaching the door. "How do I know you are related to Arvin and Jack?"

They had expected this question and Nadia produced a photograph Weiss had taken during her birthday party from her purse. "We have a photograph of us all together."

The door opened a crack and a hand appeared and grabbed the photo. After a pause the door opened wider and they could see the man inside. He covered them with a gun as he studied their faces. Then, satisfied, he stuck the gun in his waistband and stood back, inviting them in. Now she could see him clearly, Sydney understood what Marshall had meant about him being dangerous. He was about her father's age, squat and heavily built, with big powerful looking hands and a hard, ugly look about his eyes.

"How did you find me?" Rodriguez asked.

"I used to work for the CIA. I still have friends there" Sydney replied.

"OK." he grunted, "This picture doesn't prove you are their daughters but it does show you know them so I will listen to what you want." Rodriguez said.

Sydney and Nadia had discussed their strategy on their way over and had decided not to mention the murder charge against their fathers at this stage.

"I'm Sydney Bristow," Sydney introduced herself, "and this is Mr Sloane's daughter, Nadia Santos. My father and I have been estranged until recently while Nadia and Mr Sloane only became aware of each others existence a short while ago. Both of us are trying to find out more about our fathers. For instance, we know they were in the CIA too but they won't tell us much about it. One of my friends told me you worked with them. We were hoping you could tell us what they were like back then."

Rodriguez gestured for them to sit down as his face became animated by memories. "We were all young, full of patriotism and hatred for the communists who threatened to destroy our countries. I first met them in the summer of 1973 when I was a corporal in the Chilean Army. I was General Pinochet's driver. They gave the General information about how the communists were undermining our nation through their front organisation, Allende's Socialist Party and gave him the names of other senior officers who were concerned about the way Allende was ruining our country. After that they helped us plan the coup to get rid of the communists. They were great comrades. You should be proud of them."

"We are!" Nadia said. "Tell us; were they there during the coup?" 

"Yes, of course."

"Then you may know the answer to a question. We have spoken to others and they hint about something that happened during the coup to a young American. Something that involved our fathers, but they won't tell us any details. Do you know anything about that?" asked Sydney.

Rodriguez face became guarded and he appeared agitated. "I cannot speak about that. It is a classified matter, even to their daughters. If you wish to know about it you should ask them. Now, I am busy, I have answered your questions. Leave now."

"But …" Nadia began to protest before she was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Mr Rodriguez, it's the police. Open the door." Sydney and Nadia recognised the voice as belonging to Detective Green from their conversation with him the previous day.

Rodriguez swore viciously. "_Maraca!_ The CIA warned me to lay low. I should have listened. You are police spies sent here to trap me into a confession." he rushed to the window, violently pulled it open, clambered onto the fire escape and disappeared.

"Ed, he's making a run for it."

The shout came from the other side of the door. It shuddered and then crashed open as Briscoe and Green staggered into the room, shouting into their radios. They rushed over to the window and watched.

Then Green turned to his colleague. "We got him. Good thing we put some uniforms at the back." he said with satisfaction.

The two detectives turned and looked at Sydney and Nadia, "Ladies, for people who said they didn't know any Rodriguez you sure found him quick" Briscoe said.

Sydney opened her mouth to explain.

"Save it." Green ordered. "You're coming back to the Precinct with us. We'll hear what you've got to say there."

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Nadia and Sydney sat quietly in one of the 29th Precinct's interrogation rooms. They had been separated on their arrival so they couldn't compare notes while they gave their statements. Then they had been put together and left alone. That had been over an hour ago now and they had seen no-one since. They both knew from their training that they had been left together deliberately to see if they gave anything away while they thought they were alone and there was probably someone observing them through the one way mirror on the wall by the door so they had remained silent. They also knew the appearance of being ignored, perhaps forgotten was meant to soften them up for further questioning if necessary.

The door opened and they looked up to see the female ADA from their fathers' Arraignment walk in and sit down opposite them.

"Ms Bristow, Ms Santos," Serena Southerlyn greeted them. "You're both very fortunate not to be facing serious criminal charges."

"Why?" asked Nadia, "Is it illegal to look for evidence of our fathers' innocence?"

"You lied to a police officer and interfered with an ongoing investigation."

"As we said in our statements, we only found out about Rodriguez after your officer told us his name and he never said why he asked us about him." Sydney replied. "If we'd known he was wanted, we would have reported his whereabouts."

"I'm inclined to believe you and that's why I'm not filing charges. But if you are found near anyone connected with this case in the future you may not be so lucky." Serena's voice took on a gentler tone, "I know you believe your fathers are innocent and want to help them. I understand that. But, unfortunately, they did do this terrible thing. The best way you can help them is by persuading them to co-operate with us and name the person who gave them their orders. If they do, we are prepared to offer them a lighter sentence. They could be out in as little as eight years."

"My father does not kill innocent people." Sydney stated firmly.

Serena sighed and took some photographs from her briefcase. She selected one and slid it across the table. Sydney and Nadia looked down at the face of a handsome young man wearing the long hair and floral shirt with the large collar fashionable in the early 1970's. He was grinning at the camera, his face alight with laughter and optimism.

"James Selzer." Serena said. "He was only twenty one when your fathers murdered him. He'd just graduated from NYU with a degree in journalism. Like a lot of young people at the time, he opposed the war in Vietnam and much of U.S. policy towards Latin America. Unlike many of his contemporaries, however, he acted on his beliefs. He went to work for a Chilean newspaper sympathetic to President Allende."

She slid another photograph towards them. They looked down, then quickly glanced away, their faces showing their disgust at what they saw.

"James Selzer after your fathers and your friend Rodriguez had finished with him. There is no doubt they did this and they will probably die in prison unless you can convince them to give us someone higher up the command chain. You are free to leave now but please think about what I've said."

Nadia and Sydney silently walked out of the precinct into the cold evening air.

Then Nadia spoke hesitantly, "Sydney…?"

Her sister nodded. "I know." she said, "She seemed so sure of herself and Rodriguez was definitely hiding something. If only I could talk to my Dad privately. I need to know the truth!"

Nadia gasped and tugged at Sydney's arm, pointing at a news vendors placard opposite.

**CIA OFFICERS HELD FOR MURDER NYC YOUTH**   
**NOVEMBER 26TH COURT APPEARANCE**

"The DA's decided to go public," Sydney noted in a hard voice. "And that woman didn't have the decency to warn us!"

"The date's almost a month away. They have all that time to poison people against Jack and my father."

"We need to speak to their lawyers and Director Chase." Sydney decided.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock on the door and Jack McCoy grinned in delight when he recognised his visitor. "Abbie." he said, "How long has it been?"

"It's only about a month since we last had dinner Jack." Assistant US Attorney Abbie Carmichael reminded him.

"It seems longer. What are doing in this neck of the woods? Want your old job as my assistant back?"

Abbie laughed as she sat down. "No thanks. The U.S. Attorney's office is keeping me busy putting away the bad guys."

"Then what are you doing here? Just stopped by because you were in the neighbourhood?"

Abbie laid a legal paper on the table. "No. We're filing an Amicus brief on behalf of Jonathan Bristow and Arvin Sloane. I thought I'd drop by and give you the paperwork in person."

McCoy's face twisted in disappointment. "Why are you lending yourself to this Abbie? You know they're as guilty as hell. You'd have been demanding the death penalty for what they did to this kid when you were working for me."

"Come on Jack. Face the facts. These people aren't criminals. Sometimes it's necessary to do unpleasant things in order to protect this country from its enemies. Maybe Selzer was such an enemy or maybe they made a mistake. Either way, they thought they were acting in the best interests of the U.S. These are the good guys and prosecuting them not only sends the wrong message to all the brave people who put their lives on the line every day, it gives aid and comfort to terrorists and diverts resources from putting away the real predators."

McCoy's face was set as he said, "I thought you believed in law and order, yet here you are arguing that crime is OK if it's done by the government and spouting the official line straight from Washington. Crime is crime, Abbie and I am required by my office to prosecute it. By sending you, the US Attorney clearly thinks that you will somehow be able to use our previous relationship to stop this case. I'm disappointed and surprised that you're co-operating in such a sleazy tactic. In any case, the decision is out of my hands, the DA fully supports the prosecution."

Abbie Carmichael smiled at him, "Yes. I heard about his testosterone rush during the meeting with the A-G's representatives. It's a shame he's letting his pride get in the way of his patriotic duty." She got up, "See you in court in two weeks time Jack."

McCoy nodded to her, "See you in court, counsellor." he replied. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A biting cold wind was coming off the East River. Jack and Sloane hunched down and plunged their hands deeper into the pockets of their jackets in an effort to keep warm as they paced round the half empty exercise yard.

Sloane raised his eyes and studied the slate grey sky, "It's going to snow." he announced with all the authority of a native New Yorker

Jack grunted, "So? It's not as if we're going anywhere."

"Precisely. We've been incarcerated for nearly five weeks now. It was late fall when we were arrested and it's now winter. Unless something changes very soon, we're likely to still be here at Christmas. And let me tell you this Jack, being in jail was not how I planned on spending my first Christmas with Nadia."

"Right. After all, it's not as if you've ever done anything to deserve being imprisoned." Jack responded dryly. "Anyway, the Motions Hearing is next week. Wilson expects the judge to toss out the case. Even if she doesn't, he's confident we'll get bail."

"We're both in the same boat here." Sloane reminded him "The DA thinks we both deserve to be locked up and, yes. Shapiro told me the same thing but you'll remember that they told us we'd get bail before our Arraignment too. You said this McCoy is a dangerous opponent and so far he's won every round, so I'm not relying on them being right this time either. If we aren't released I'm putting my name down for the Garbage Squad work detail as soon as we're processed back in."

Jack stared at him in astonishment, "Why? Hauling other peoples' trash isn't something I ever imagined you'd volunteer for Arvin. I know the leisure activities here are limited but, if you want to work, there are more congenial assignments available.

Sloane glanced meaningfully at the security cameras and guard tower looming overhead, tracking their every movement. "Because the Garbage detail has access to all parts of this facility, including the area where the City Sanitation Department picks up the trash twice a week. There must be a weakness in security somewhere. That is how we find it. I strongly recommend you put your name down too."

Jack grasped the implications of Sloane's remarks immediately, "You think it may come to that?"

Sloane shrugged, "You've read the newspapers Jack. For the last four weeks we've been major news and the DA has made all the running. There hasn't been a single supportive story or even a comment from the CIA. I think they're preparing to throw us to the wolves if necessary so yes, I think we should prepare in case it does. I can't speak for you, but I am definitely not going to prison and leaving Nadia and Sydney at the mercy of whatever Elena has planned for them."

TBC

**Glossary**

**Amicus Brief** – When an individual or group who are not a party to the proceedings but have an interest in its' outcome appears in court to argue in favour of the position taken by one of the parties.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 is here! Hope you enjoy. There is a glossary at the end for anyone unfamiliar with legal terminology.

**Chapter 7**

Sydney sat next to Nadia in the front row of the packed court, directly behind the defendants table. Like the family pew at a funeral she thought, then pushed the idea out of her mind. After all, she reminded herself, this was only a motions hearing, her father's guilt or innocence would not be decided today. She felt a gentle but firm pressure on her hand and looked down to see that Vaughn, sensing her mood, had reached out to hold it. He and Weiss had arrived from L.A. the night before to be with her and Nadia during the hearing. She glanced towards her sister and saw that she too was anxious. She was holding on to Weiss' hand as if her life depended on it.

The side door opened and her father and Sloane entered the court. Sydney felt a flash of shock at the sight of them. They had clearly prepared carefully for the occasion and were well groomed, wearing dark business suits set off with conservative ties, presenting the image of reputable professional men to the spectators. _Why is does that shock me so much?_ she wondered. _They look just like they normally do. _Then she realised that wasn't true. Over the past two months she had become accustomed to seeing them in the unflattering prison uniform, their faces unshaven and their hair dishevelled. A reminder of their status, however, came from the deputy who followed them into the court, the handcuffs he had clearly only just removed from their wrists still held casually in his hand. Sydney knew that the officer probably just hadn't had time to put them away but she couldn't help feel that the sight of them was prejudicial, reminding all those in the court that, despite being legally innocent, both men were being held in custody. As they took their seats beside their lawyers, they turned and smiled at their daughters.

The court clerk called "All rise for the Honourable Judge Alicia Reinhardt."

As everyone in the court followed the instruction, a small, plump, middle aged woman with a motherly face entered from a door behind the Bench, her dark judicial robes flowing as she moved. Sydney knew from Wilson and Shapiro that her appearance was deceptive. She was an experienced and highly respected jurist, with a reputation for running cases in a firm, no nonsense manner.

She sat down and rapped the gavel. "Please be seated. The New York Superior Court, Part 32 is in session. The District Attorney is represented by Mr McCoy and Ms Southerlyn. Defendants by Mr Wilson and Mr Shapiro, Ms Carmichael from the U.S. Attorney's office as amicus curie. There are three Motions filed, two from the defence and one from the prosecution. We'll start with the defence motion for dismissal of the charges due to lack of jurisdiction since the others will become moot if that is granted." She nodded in the direction of the defence table.

Abbie Carmichael rose. Sydney had met her several times during visits to the lawyer's offices and had been impressed with her competence. She waited to hear what she would say.

"Your Honour," Abbie began, "the prosecution's claim to jurisdiction rests on the precedent set in the case of State of New York versus Kruger. As you know, Mr Kruger abducted a child in New Jersey and hid her with an accomplice in the same State. In an effort to mislead investigators he sent her parents a ransom demand from Essex County in upstate New York. He was charged with kidnapping and extortion and convicted of these crimes in Essex County. Mr Kruger appealed his conviction on the basis that the kidnapping had taken place in New Jersey and the victim had never left the jurisdiction of that State. The New York State Supreme Court, however, ruled that the kidnapping had been committed for financial gain and the act of sending the ransom note was an integral part of the crime, giving the State of New York discretion to prosecute the case here rather that return him to New Jersey to face trial.

In giving this judgement the State Supreme Court was very clear that it was not challenging the constitutionally protected right of a sovereign State to prosecute crimes within its' own borders. The ruling dealt only with criminals committing different elements of the same crime in different States. It does not, as the Manhattan D.A.'s office would have this court believe, give prosecutors the right to try a crime committed elsewhere simply because the victim or the alleged perpetrators have ties to this State.

In order for this court to find that jurisdiction exists under Kruger it would have to be satisfied on three points, that the CIA either initiated or actively supported the coup against President Allende, that key elements of the coup were planned from the CIA office here in Manhattan and that Mr Selzer's death was, not only specifically ordered by the Manhattan office, but integral to the success of the operation. The Government has submitted affidavits from a number of extremely reputable individuals who were highly placed in the State Department, the Department of Justice and the CIA at the time the coup took place, all stating that the U.S. Government was in no way involved. The People have presented nothing to disprove these, other than inference, supposition and unsubstantiated statements from individuals of questionable backgrounds. If the People have evidence linking the defendants to Mr Selzer's death, the correct course is for them to pass it to the Chilean authorities who can then ask for extradition in the normal way."

"Thank you Ms Carmichael."

Sydney felt a certain ambiguity around the presentation. On the one hand, she appreciated its cogency and well ordered logic. On the other, however, she had wanted to hear Ms Carmichael robustly declaring her father's innocence. She watched as the Judge's eyes flicked across the room to the lean figure of the Executive Assistant District Attorney.

"Mr McCoy?" Judge Reinhardt asked.

"Your Honour, we believe the evidence that the coup was organised here in Manhattan is very persuasive, nor do we agree with Ms Carmichael's position that the brutal murder of Mr Selzer by the defendants …"

"Objection." shouted Wilson and Shapiro, almost in unison. After a quick glance at each other, Wilson went on, "The District Attorney is testifying and attempting to inflame passions against our clients."

"There's no jury here, councillor" Judge Reinhardt reminded him, "However, less with the emotive appeals Mr McCoy."

_It's too late _Sydney thought cynically _the people here have already heard and everybody else in New York City will know what he said after they've watched the news._

McCoy continued unperturbed, "We do not agree that Mr Selzer's murder has to be integral to the success of the coup for us to exercise jurisdiction. The charge here is Murder in the 2nd degree. It is enough for us to show that the CIA Field Office was actively involved in the coup, that the defendants were acting under orders from that Office and those orders displayed a depraved indifference to Mr Selzer's life."

"I've read the State Supreme Court's judgement and I agree with Mr McCoy's interpretation of it. " Judge Reinhardt commented. "As discussed in Chambers earlier I would like to hear the People's evidence supporting CIA involvement in the coup. Are the witnesses available Mr McCoy?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

Abbie Carmichael rose from the Defence table, "We'd like to renew our objection to this course, Your Honour. Their affidavits have been submitted for your consideration and allowing them to testify in open court simply provides a platform for conspiracy theorists and professional paranoids to insult and attempt to undermine the heroic men and women who daily risk their lives to protect this country from terrorists and other enemies."

"Who's testifying and attempting to inflame passions now, Ms Carmichael?" Judge Reinhardt asked dryly. "You'll have an opportunity to cross-examine the People's witnesses. In the meantime, your objection is noted. Call your first witness, Mr McCoy."

"The People call Miles Henderson."

Sydney noticed that unlike everyone else in the courtroom Sloane and her father kept their eyes firmly fixed forward, not glancing around as an elderly man, with unfashionably long hair and dressed casually in a sports jacket walked through the doors at the back and down the aisle.

Once he was seated on the witness stand and had been sworn in, McCoy began the questioning. "Please state for the record your name, occupation and location during August/September 1973."

"I am Miles Henderson. During the fall of 1973 I was the 'Washington Bugle's' correspondent in Santiago, Chile. I remained in the country during the military's overthrow of President Allende and subsequently wrote a book, 'Bad Neighbours; the CIA's Secret War against Democracy' based on my experiences and observations during that period."

"Please tell this court what led you to believe that the CIA was involved in the coup."

"Shortly after Richard Nixon's re-election as U.S. President in 1972, sources told me that representatives of the U.S. government were meeting secretly with Chilean military personnel known to oppose Allende." Henderson responded, "I followed these reports up and personally witnessed many such meetings, including one between General Augusto Pinochet and a man I subsequently identified as Walter Milligan, then Deputy Director of the CIA's Manhattan Field Office. During my reporting of the coup itself I observed Americans consulting with and issuing orders to Chilean military personnel."

"Did you observe the defendants during this period?" McCoy asked.

Henderson nodded, "Yes. I photographed them in the bar of the Hotel Mirador several days before the coup. They were with other Americans I later saw attached to Chilean military units taking part in the coup."

"Your Honour, we introduce Peoples exhibits 1 through 6."

Serena Southerlyn got up and propped three large blown up pictures against the seats of the empty jury box. They showed a group of seven young men sitting at a table, they were smiling, relaxed and at ease with each other as they raised beer mugs in a toast. Sydney instantly recognised two of the men as younger, more carefree versions of her father and Sloane.

"These were taken on 5th September 1973, six days before the coup." Henderson said.

Serena added a further three blow ups to the gallery. Sydney saw her father's and Sloane's table companions dressed in fatigues and sitting in tanks or jeeps in the company of Chilean soldiers. One photo showed Chilean soldiers using their rifle butts to beat a woman whose body had already been reduced to a bloody pulp while the man who had been sitting with his arm draped affectionately over her father's shoulder in one of the original photos sat watching in a jeep, apparently unmoved.

"These were taken on the day of the coup." Henderson added.

"Let the record show that the defendants were in the company of individuals assisting in the coup." McCoy noted. "Thank you Mr Henderson. Your witness." he invited the Defence.

Shapiro rose, "Tell me; were you able to overhear the conversation between General Pinochet and Mr Milligan?"

"No."

"So they could have been discussing anything, books, movies, their children. Mr Milligan could even have been attempting to persuade General Pinochet to accept Allende's election as far as you know?"

"It doesn't seem likely."

"That's your opinion Mr Henderson. Based on what you actually know, yes or no?"

"Yes." Henderson replied sulkily.

"Can you state from personal knowledge and observation that the Americans in the photographs were employed by the CIA? Yes or no."

"No."

Did you witness either Mr Sloane or Mr Bristow giving orders to, or advising Chilean military units during the coup?"

"No."

"Did you overhear any conversations between these gentlemen and the other Americans?"

"No."

"So, based on what you know rather than what you think, they could have been casual acquaintances, fellow Americans drawn together in a foreign land?"

"Yes, but…"

"Thank you Mr Henderson. Oh! You wrote stories critical of President Nixon during this period did you not?"

Henderson shrugged, "It was Watergate. Everybody was anti-Nixon."

"OK. But more recently you have written articles condemning the detainment facility at Guantanamo Bay and the U.S. liberation of Iraq. You seem to have a predisposition to think the worst of our government, don't you?"

As Henderson opened his mouth to reply, Shapiro raised his hand, "Never mind." he said. He turned towards the Judge, "No further questions for this 'witness'." The tone of his voice was contemptuous as he uttered the last word.

"Thank you Mr Henderson, you may step down." Judge Reinhardt told the man, "Next witness, Mr McCoy."

"McCoy stood as he called, "Jayston Allen."

Sydney glanced towards her father and Sloane and noticed the muscles in their backs tense at the name. It was an almost imperceptible reaction and she only picked up on it because she knew them so well. She noticed their lawyers also shift forward in their seats.

_This guy could be bad for us _she thought. She watched as he sat down on the witness stand and took the oath. He was middle aged; wearing a brand new off-the-peg suit and his face was blotchy. _A heavy drinker_ she decided.

"Please tell the court your occupation between 1971 and 1974, Mr Allen." McCoy asked.

"I was a CIA analyst employed in the Manhattan Field Office." he replied.

"And during this period did you perform any analysis on the political situation in Chile?"

"Yes," Allen replied, "I was asked by my immediate superior to prepare an options paper on methods of removing President Allende from power. One of the options I put forward involved U.S. aid and support for a military coup."

"What happened after you had submitted the paper?" McCoy pressed.

Allen shrugged, "I don't know but normal procedure would have been for it to have been considered by the Operations Command Team which consisted of the Director, Deputy Director and Chief of Operations of the Field Office."

"Did anything happen after you had submitted the paper to make you believe this had in fact occurred?"

"Yes." Allen replied, nodding emphatically. "Further papers were commissioned profiling potential coup leaders within the Chilean military, Latin American specialists were drafted into the office and there was a significant increase in travel to Chile."

Serena Southerlyn rose from her place on the Prosecution table and gathered together a stack of documents which she brought forward and laid on the Judge's bench.

"Peoples exhibits 7 through 25, Your Honour." stated McCoy, "Research papers, employee rolls and travel vouchers. These documents were surrendered by the CIA and passed to the D.A.'s office after being reviewed by you." He turned to the witness again, "Did anything else happen to convince you that the CIA was planning a coup against President Allende?"

"Yeah." Allen pointed his arm dramatically towards Jack and Sloane, "They appeared."

"You mean the defendants?" McCoy clarified.

"I do." Allen confirmed.

"Why was their arrival significant?"

"They were known specialists in black operations and wet-work. If the CIA wanted something sleazy done or a termination with extreme prejudice performed, Bristow and Sloane were the 'Dream Team' of the day."

"By 'wet-work' and 'terminate with extreme prejudice' you mean murder?" asked McCoy.

"That's right, and they were still doing that kind of work until quite recently at least." Allen added. "I have information that they were both senior officers in an organisation called SD6, which was a black operations unit set up by the CIA to give credible denial to the Agency for acts of assassination, extortion, theft and other illegal activity."

Wilson and Shapiro were on their feet, "Objection!" they shouted, but they were drowned out by the noise from the excited spectators. They had come expecting to hear a story about misdeeds in the distant past, not revelations about recent illegal activity by the CIA.

Judge Reinhardt beat her gavel hard. "Order, order." she shouted but no-one took any notice. Finally she gave up. "We'll adjourn for lunch," she cried. "and re-convene at 2:30 by which time I expect people to be able to behave in an appropriate fashion. Counsel in my chambers – now!" She turned and marched back to her chambers.

TBC

**Glossary**

**Adjourn** – an official decision to temporarily halt court proceedings, normally for a stated period of time.  
**Affidavit** - a written declaration made on oath before somebody authorized to administer oaths, usually setting out the statement of a witness for court proceedings.  
**Amicus Curie** - An individual or group who are not a party to the proceedings but have an interest in its' outcome who appears in court to argue in favour of the position taken by one of the parties.  
**Chambers** – the name for a judge's office.  
**Cross-examine** - Questioning of a witness by the lawyer who did not call them as a witness.  
**Defendant** - a person required to answer criminal or civil charges in a court  
**Extradition** - the handing over by a government of somebody accused of a crime in a different country for trial or punishment there.  
**Jurisdiction** - area over which legal authority extends  
**Moot** – Irrelevant.  
**Motions Hearing** - A court proceeding where testimony is given, exhibits are reviewed, and/or legal arguments are made, to help a judge decide an issue in a case.  
**Objection** – Used to draw the attention of the judge to some perceived breach of court procedure by a witness or the opposing lawyer  
**The People** – Alternative name for the Prosecution (since prosecutions are taken on behalf of the citizens of a State).  
**Precedent** - the doctrine that requires a court to follow decisions of superior or previous courts.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone who continues to review. Here is the next chapter. I hope it is up to standard!

**Chapter 8**

"Alright, what the hell was all that?" Judge Reinhardt asked as soon as the door closed behind the lawyers.

"It was irrelevant and highly prejudicial to our clients; that's what it was." Thirly Wilson answered. "Your Honour, Mr McCoy has a history of ambushing the Defence in exactly this way."

A glance from the Judge silenced him, then Reinhardt's gaze focussed on Assistant Executive District Attorney Jack McCoy.

"Jack?" she pressed.

"Judge, Mr Allen's testimony is as much a surprise to me as it is to the Defence. There was no mention of SD6 in his deposition!"

"Yeah, you'd better duck Jack, there's a low flying pig heading right towards you!" Shapiro responded.

"Counsellor!" Reinhardt warned, "Mr McCoy has denied any prior knowledge of this testimony. Unless you have evidence that he has engaged in professional misconduct I suggest you keep those sorts of remarks to yourself. Now, what are we going to do about this SD6 testimony?"

"I move for dismissal of the charges against our clients." Wilson answered, "The implication that Mr Bristow and Mr Sloane have recently engaged in other serious criminal activities is both prejudicial and highly inflammatory. If this gets to trial, there's no way an impartial jury can be empanelled now!"

"That's a load of bull!" Serena Southerlyn burst out. "There were at most a hundred people in that courtroom.

"Including members of the media." Abbie Carmichael reminded her. "What do you think their leading with on the lunchtime news even as we speak? By this evening, Mr Allen will have gone the rounds of the news programmes and talk shows and everyone in New York State and beyond will know what he said. This was what we feared, before he was just a loony with a grudge against the CIA and a web site. This hearing has given him the credibility and platform he craves."

"Thanks Abbie," Reinhardt said dryly, "I'm the person who insisted on holding this hearing in public. You might like to think about that."

"He's the District Attorney's witness, Your Honour. They are responsible for what he says." Abbie responded.

"I don't agree that this testimony is irrelevant or prejudicial, Judge." McCoy protested. "If true, it goes to show a pattern of criminal behaviour by the defendants."

"Come on Jack." Shapiro protested, "The Statutes say you can use prior bad acts as evidence of a defendant's predisposition to commit certain types of crimes. There is no law on the books allowing you to introduce a subsequent crime to prove an earlier one. And you're forgetting one very important point; the defendant has to have been convicted of the earlier crime in order for you to use it. This isn't even close! These are allegations offered without any evidence to back them up. Our clients haven't even got an outstanding parking violation against them!"

Judge Reinhardt intervened to cool down the heated debate. "OK. Jerry's right. As this is the first any of us has heard about SD6 we have no way of knowing whether it existed or not and it is a matter of fact that neither defendant has any prior convictions. This hearing is about whether this court has jurisdiction to hear this case. I have no intention of turning it into a fishing expedition into the murky waters of CIA activities in general. When we reconvene I will rule that the witnesses' statement was irrelevant and non-responsive and order it stricken from the record. I will also warn him against any further mention of SD6 or anything else unrelated to this particular case."

"But you can't strike it from the memories of everyone who heard it or will have it reported to them!" Wilson pointed out. "It's bound to contaminate the jury pool."

"We don't know that." McCoy said, "People may not believe him and, even if they do, we can't be sure how they'll respond. For all we know they may think that CIA involvement in murder, extortion and theft helps keep this country safe. I know of at least one person in this room who does! I'm prepared to take that risk. I don't see why the Defence shouldn't be."

Reinhardt sat back in her chair to consider. Finally she spoke. "I agree with the D.A. on this one, people. If this case gets to trial you will both have an opportunity to question jurors during voir dire, not only regarding this particular allegation, but on their views about CIA activities in general."

"Then at least issue a gag order preventing Allen talking about SD6 outside of the courtroom, Judge." Abbie begged.

"Sorry Councillor, there's a little thing called the 1st Amendment. You might have heard about it in Law School."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weiss handed Vaughn a plastic cup of coffee and a Danish and sat down beside his friend on the bench set in the corridor of the Criminal Court Building.

"It's a media feeding frenzy out there." he reported. "They're interviewing anyone with even the vaguest connection with the case. Hell, their so desperate, they're even interviewing each other! It's a good thing I've got such a forgettable face; otherwise you'd have died of hunger and thirst." He became serious. "That SD6 stuff was a shock. It really hit Nadia and Syd hard. How are they coping now?" he asked.

Vaughn absent-mindedly sipped the coffee and took a bite from the Danish. "Not well." he answered, "especially Syd. Watching powerless as your father is publicly accused of being a torturer and murderer and dragged through the courts is bad enough, but the mention of SD6 brought back feelings and memories she's been compartmentalising since Nadia came into her life and she's had to work with Sloane again. She and Nadia are both down in the holding pens with their fathers. They got permission for a court visit but I can't imagine what they're going to talk about after what just went down in the courtroom!"

Weiss nodded gravely. "They're going to need us to be there for them." He paused and went on, "How do you think this is going to play out in the long term? I mean in relation to APO?"

Vaughn looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, our Director and Deputy Director are being paraded through the courts. Pictures of them are being shown on the nightly news. Not the best way to run a covert operations unit! Do you think they'll be removed from APO or the unit will be disbanded, or what?"

Vaughn shrugged as he finished his pastry, "I haven't given it a lot of thought." He looked seriously at his friend, "I haven't discussed this with Syd, but…" He paused and took a deep breath, "We both know Jack and Sloane well enough to know they could have done what they're charged with. We have to face the possibility that they may actually be convicted. That's what keeps me awake at nights, wondering how Syd will cope if Jack is sent to prison for a long time."

"It's never going to happen!" Weiss predicted confidently. "Those guys are like Teflon, nothing sticks to them. Look at everything they've gotten away with already. Even if they are found guilty, I'll put money on them escaping within three months max and sending Syd and Nadia postcards from some deserted tropical paradise!"

"I hope you're right!" Vaughn responded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sat opposite each other in the bare interview room with its' institutional green paint peeling off the walls. A guard stood at ease but alert by the door.

Sydney realized she didn't know what to say. After that first visit to Riker's Island, she had come to terms with the fact her father was in jail and become accustomed to visiting him there. Conversation had been easier as a result. Today was different. She was angry at Sloane and wanted to shout at him, even hit him. Even more, she wanted to rush out before the television cameras and tell the world the truth about SD6. It was Sloane's fault. He had perpetrated the lie that SD6 was part of the CIA and now, her father, who had worked so hard to destroy that organisation, would also be linked to its' crimes in the public mind. But she couldn't do any of those things so she just sat there.

The target of her anger, opened the brown bag he had brought into the room with him and took out its' contents. "One sandwich, a yoghurt, one apple and a carton of orange juice." Sloane enumerated. "Well, jails aren't exactly noted for imagination in their catering arrangements." He carefully lifted the bread to see its filling, "Bologna." He made a grimace of disgust and turned to Jack, "What have you got?" he asked.

Jack took out the contents of his bag and examined them. "The same." he announced.

"So, no point in suggesting a swap then."  
"How can you think of food at a time like this?" Nadia asked angrily. "You heard that man talking about SD6 and the reaction of the spectators."

It was Jack who answered. He spoke sharply, reminding her to be careful about what she said, "Allen's testimony was a surprise to both your father and me, but what's done is done and we have to deal with it. It's certainly not a reason to stop eating. In fact, quite the opposite, we need to stay focussed and alert so we must maintain our energy levels. We need food to do that." To prove his point he took a bite from his sandwich, chewed and swallowed.

"Dad," Sydney chose her words carefully, "A lot of people bought that SD6 story."

Sloane responded, "Our lawyers haven't cross examined him yet. By the time they're finished I suspect Mr Allen's credibility as a witness will be severely damaged. As for the case in general, I thought Wilson did an excellent job in demolishing Miles Henderson's testimony."

Sydney and Nadia both nodded. They had both been quietly confident that the judge would dismiss the charge at that point. As a result, Allen's revelation had come as even more of a shock.

Jack changed the subject. "I see Mr Vaughn and Mr Weiss are both here. I hope they're supporting you through this."

They continued to talk about personal matters until the guard announced that the time allowed for the visit was over.

Sydney and Nadia made their way out of the interview room and holding pen area. When the last gate had locked behind them and they were out of the guards hearing, Sydney turned to Nadia, "This is all Sloane's fault." she announced, "I could kill him!"

Nadia looked at her confused, "Why?" she asked. "Allen thought SD6 was a part of the CIA. We know it wasn't, but APO was set up to be the CIA's version of SD6. Isn't that why my father was put in charge? As members of APO, we lie, we cheat, we steal, sometimes we use violence. Why are those acceptable to you when done by the CIA but unacceptable when done by someone else?"

"The CIA protects freedom and democracy." her sister replied harshly, "SD6 was part of the Alliance, a terrorist organisation dedicated to gaining power for itself."

"So, you're saying the ends justify the means." Nadia pointed out, "I'm sure that many of the U.S' enemies also believe that their cause is just. If we think we can kill and torture because we are in the right, why can't they? Where does it all end?"

Sydney looked at Nadia but she had no answer. Silently they made their way back to pick up Vaughn and Weiss and re-enter the courtroom.

TBC.

Glossary

1st Amendment – The First amendment to the American Constitution. It prohibits the Government from limiting the exercise of free speech.  
Deposition – A witnesses' written statement.  
Non-responsive – A statement that does not answer the question asked.  
Prejudicial – Information that is irrelevant to the case but likely to disadvantage the defendant.  
Statutes – Laws passed by the appropriate legislative body (in this case the New York State Assembly.  
Testimony – Evidence that a witness gives to a court of law.  
Voir Dire - the preliminary examination of a juror to determine their competence to hear evidence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Jack and Sloane stood just inside the holding pen with their backs to the wall. Although they were totally convinced of their ability to defend themselves should any of the twenty other criminal defendants who shared the large caged area with them make the mistake of attacking, they saw no reason to appear to offer them an easy target. They were careful, however, not to lean against the wall in case the filth and grime accumulated over fifty years of constant use by a transient population and insufficient investment by the City in cleaning and maintenance ruined their expensive suits. Although their fellow prisoners all seemed wrapped up in their own worries and concerns they remained cautious and chose their words carefully.

"Do you think we re-assured Sydney and Nadia about the way the hearing is progressing?" Jack asked.

Sloane shrugged. "I doubt it Jack. We've had a lot of experience at shading the truth but they're both highly intelligent young women. A lot will depend on how the Judge rules when the Court re-convenes. I would give a lot to know where Allen got that SD6 story from."

Jack nodded, acknowledging the truth of Sloane's observation. He chose his next words more carefully than usual, "We'll probably never know for sure, but I gather rumours about such an organisation have been going around the intelligence community for some time, as has speculation about the reasons for our departure from that world. If he still has contacts there, he could have heard the gossip and convinced himself they were connected. I'm more worried about Rodriguez. We know from Sydney and Nadia that they have him, but he's not on their witness list. I hope that means they haven't been able to turn him. If they have, his testimony could be …interesting."

Sloane was about to reply when a guard came up to the bars. He produced two sets of handcuffs, "Bristow, Sloane," he called, "Court's about to re-start." He banged the edge of cuffs against a long narrow slot set into the gate. "You know what to do, back up to the slot and put your hands through."

Sloane gave Jack a mirthless grin, "Time for Act Two." he said as he moved to comply.

Ten minutes later they stood rubbing their wrists as the defendant's entrance door to the court opened and their guards guided them inside. Their arms dropped to their sides and their faces became impassive as they automatically dropped into professional mode. A quick glance at the public area showed that it was again full but they had expected that. They were both more interested in looking at their daughters sitting in the front row with Vaughn and Weiss and proud to see them sitting with their heads held high and a defiant look on their faces.

Judge Reinhardt entered and they waited to hear her ruling.

She looked round the Court, meeting their eyes for several seconds, before speaking. "I am pleased to see that people are now behaving in a manner appropriate to a Court of Justice. Any further disruption will lead to the individuals responsible being ejected from the Courtroom. Mr Allen, please resume your seat in the witness stand. Just before we recessed, the Defence raised an objection to testimony offered by this witness. I am sustaining that objection and ruling that the reference to SD6 was irrelevant and non-responsive and ordering it stricken from the record." She turned to Allen, "I must also warn you, sir, against any further mention of SD6 or anything else unrelated to this specific case. Mr McCoy, do you have any further questions for your witness?" Seeing McCoy nod, she went on, "Very well. Mr Allen, please remember that you are still under oath."

Sloane noted the puffy look on Allen's face as he sat on the stand and the slight trembling of his hands. _He's been drinking during the lunch break_ he concluded. _Good, that talk about SD6 may actually work to our advantage_. He leaned over and whispered in Wilson's ear.

MCoy rose and approached the witness, "Mr Allen, where were you on September 11, 1973?"

"I was at work in the CIA's Manhattan office."

"Did anything unusual happen on that day or in the week or so preceding it?" McCoy followed up the question.

Allen nodded, "Yes. About a week before, all leave was cancelled and people already on leave were recalled. Throughout the week there was an air of anticipation among the operations and communications people; as if they were waiting for something. When I left on the evening of the 10th, the Operations Command Team were all still at the office and when I returned the next morning they were still there. They hadn't changed their clothing or shaved so they must have been there all night.

"Objection." called Wilson from the Defence table, "That's opinion and speculation."

Judge Reinhardt paused, "The reference to the air of anticipation is opinion so I'll strike that but the other is a reasonable inference based on observation. I'll allow it."

"On September 11 itself, the place was a madhouse." Allen went on. "I got to the office at around 8 o'clock and the place was jumping. I asked a guy I knew in Communications what was happening and he told me that the coup had finally begun. I asked him _"What coup?" _and he looked at me like I was insane. "_The one in Chile,"_ he said, _Allende's dead and our guys are taking out all his sympathisers now." _

McCoy turned to the Judge "Your Honour, the People offer into evidence Exhibits 26 to 47 comprising a memo cancelling all leave for the period in question and a record of communications traffic for that week. You will note that the heaviest traffic is with the U.S. Embassy in Santiago, Chile, the Hotel Mirador in the same city, where, we have heard from previous testimony, the defendants were staying and CIA Headquarters in Langley. You will note that the traffic increases in volume during the week and reaches a peak on the day of the coup."

Judge Reinhardt flicked through the sheaf of papers brought her by Serena Southerlyn and nodded.

Jack Bristow watched as his namesake sat down. _An impressive performance_ he thought. _First class research and strategic analysis, he would have made a good agent._ He glanced at Sloane and saw he too was regarding McCoy with grudging respect, then leaned back slightly to look at Sydney. She still sat there with her head held high but he could see the worry lines around her eyes. He attempted a reassuring smile at her.

Wilson had stood up and was looking benevolently at the witness. "Mr Allen, let's review your testimony to date. Several months before the coup you prepared a paper on regime change in Chile. One of a number of options in that paper was U.S. support for a military coup. This paper was submitted up your line management chain but you don't know what happened to it after that. Correct?"

"Like I said before, papers were written profiling individuals who could be used to spearhead a coup and there was a big increase in the office's Latin American section."

"Yes. But can you state from your own knowledge that those events were connected?"

Allen glared at Jack's lawyer, "You trying to make out it was coincidence?" he asked belligerently.

Wilson's smile grew wider, "President Allende was a Marxist. He had close ties to Cuba and was talking about inviting Soviet military advisers into Chile. You don't need to assume the CIA was planning a coup against him to explain an increased interest in his activities. Now, about your paper, it's not unusual for intelligence organisations to develop contingency plans is it?"

"No." Allen agreed sullenly.

"Please explain to the Court what a contingency plan is." Wilson asked.

"It's when you don't intend to do something but you have a strategy prepared just in case it's needed sometime in the future."

"So, even if the CIA researched the coup option, that doesn't prove they intended to follow through on it, much less actually did?"

"Yeah, well you explain to me why they shipped in your clients and why the comms. guy I spoke to said our guys were involved!"

"Yes. Let's deal with those issues. Mr Allen, have you ever seen Mr Bristow or Mr Sloane kill anyone?

"No."

"Threaten anyone?"

"No."

"Jump the queue at the lunch counter?"

"Objection." McCoy called from the prosecution table over the smothered laughter from the public area.

"Withdrawn." Wilson said. He went on, "So, your statement that they were professional assassins and enforcers is based on nothing more than the CIA equivalent of water cooler gossip. Right?"

"I know what I know. Even the field agents in the office; men I knew had been involved in highly dangerous operations treated them with respect."

"No doubt a professional respect for their abilities and achievements in service to their country." Wilson turned Allen's reply into a positive statement about his clients. He then appeared to change the subject, "Mr Allen, you say you left the CIA in 1974. What were the circumstances?"

Allen suddenly became guarded. "I disagreed with a number of things that were going on at the time so I resigned." he answered.

"Really!" Wilson's tone indicated disbelief. "Isn't it true that you were an alcoholic by that time?"

"Sometimes I had a little too much to drink. It was because of what was happening in the Agency. I'm not a drunk!"

Wilson looked meaningfully at Allen's hands, drawing the attention of the entire court to his unsuccessful attempts to stop them from shaking.

"So you weren't booked into a drying out clinic in April 1974 and you didn't resign one step ahead of being disciplined for getting drunk one evening and leaving highly classified documents in the back of a cab?"

"It was a set up. They were out to get me!"

"You don't like the CIA do you sir? In fact since your err…resignation you have publicly accused the CIA of just about every crime in the book and you are currently operating a website which states that the CIA was responsible for the assassination of, among others, President Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe and the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II?"

"They did it. One day they'll make a mistake and I'll have the evidence to prove it. Then everyone will have to believe me!"

"Isn't it convenient that this unnamed guy in Communications just happened to make an admission of CIA involvement in Allende's overthrow to you? Why isn't he here testifying himself? Could it be because you've invented that entire conversation to make us believe this latest conspiracy theory of yours?" Wilson turned to Judge Reinhardt, "No further questions Your Honour." he said and sat down.

Jack and Sloane covertly watched McCoy who was in urgent whispered conversation with his assistant. They wished they could have had the prosecution's table bugged so they could listen to the discussion.

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"They've managed to raise a lot of uncertainty." Serena noted. "How did they know about Allen's committal to that clinic and the discipline action against him?"

"Wilson's been given access to his confidential CIA personnel file." McCoy responded viciously. "That's a violation of his right to privacy but we'll never be able to prove it. We'll have to bring on Rodriguez. I didn't want to tip our hand at this stage but if Reinhardt rules against us, the case will never get to trial anyway. It's a good thing I had him prepped and ready just in case we needed to use him."

He rose, "Your Honour, the People would lie to call an additional witness who will testify that he was present at meetings where the defendants and General Pinochet jointly planned the coup."

"Objection." Wilson and Shapiro both yelled.

"This witness is not on the People's list. We have no time to prepare for cross-examination." added Shapiro.

"Approach, Your Honour?" asked McCoy.

Reinhardt motioned both sets of lawyers' forwards and they crowded around her Bench, speaking in low voices.

"Your Honour, we want to call Diego Rodriguez who was Pinochet's driver in the summer of 1973. The defendants' daughters were present when he was taken into custody and he has deposed that he told them their fathers' were involved in the planning of the coup. I find it hard to believe they haven't passed this information to Mr Bristow and Mr Sloane's legal team." McCoy stated.

"Sure they told us." Wilson confirmed. "But that doesn't mean it's true. Rodriguez could have lots of reasons for lying to them but I'm sure the D.A.'s office has offered him incentives to stick to that story."

Reinhardt looked inquiringly at the Executive Assistant District Attorney.

McCoy pursed his lips, "Mr Rodriguez was an accomplice in Mr Selzer's murder. We have given him immunity in exchange for his testimony against the defendants. This hearing, however, is about whether or not the CIA initiated the coup. The murder charge is a completely separate issue."

"Yeah, except they go together like a horse and carriage." Shapiro pointed out cynically. "Judge, Mr Rodriguez's immunity deal is dependant on him telling a court our clients killed James Selzer. The only way he gets to do that is by saying they helped plan the coup. We can't impeach Rodriguez without mentioning the murder. It's heads I win, tails you lose!"

Judge Reinhardt smiled slightly, "You're absolutely right Jerry, but, unfortunately for you, Jack is right as a matter of law. This hearing is solely about whether or not the CIA was behind the coup. Whether your clients killed James Selzer is a completely different legal issue. Now, as you are clearly aware of what he will testify to, I'm going to hear what he has to say. Stand back."

As the lawyers resumed their seats McCoy watched as Wilson and Shapiro leaned over to brief their clients on the outcome of the sidebar. Much against his will he found himself admiring their nerve. In his experience, most other defendants would have shown anger or panic at an unexpected and damaging witness being introduced so late in the day but, apart from a slight tightening of their lips, Bristow and Sloane remained calm and self possessed. As Serena Southerlyn brought Rodriguez into the court, however, he noticed how their eyes became cold as they followed his down the aisle and onto the witness stand.

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"Open your mouth; turn your face to the right, now to the left. Raise your arms above your heads. Bring them down and hold them out straight in front of you, spread your fingers, palms up. Turn round and bend over."

Jack and Sloane once again stood naked in the receiving room at Riker's Island as they were processed back in along with the others who'd been on their bus back from court.

Once the guards were finished the cavity search they showered and walked into the clothing issue area where they quickly dressed in the jail uniforms they were given. As they waited to be escorted back to the cell block they had left only that morning, Sloane recognised a guard lieutenant and stepped forward.

"Excuse me sir," he began respectfully, "but as you can see from our papers, my colleague and I have been committed without bail until our trial. That's unlikely to take place before the New Year. We're used to being occupied and the weeks are likely to drag. We would like to put our name down for a work detail. I understand there are vacancies in the Garbage Squad."

The lieutenant looked at Jack who, after a short pause, nodded his agreement.

The Lieutenant flicked through his papers, "I see here you've both got university degrees. Are you sure you want the Garbage Detail? We can find you both something more suitable to your academic qualifications."

Jack smiled, "No, that's fine. We'd like to keep fit and active and the Garbage Squad is ideal for that purpose; besides if we got jobs in the Library or as Inmate Tutors, it would be as if we were making a statement that we expected to be here permanently."

The Lieutenant shrugged, "OK," he said "If you want to spend the next couple of months hauling trash why should I stop you?" The line of inmates began to file out. "I'll register your request with Assignments, now, get back into line and move on."

T.B.C.

**Glossary**

**Impeach** - Discrediting a witness by showing they are not telling the truth.  
**Immunity** – An agreement not to prosecute for the crime in question.  
**Sidebar** - A conversation between a judge and lawyers at a trial that the public and the jury cannot hear.


	10. Chapter 10

New chapter. Thanks to everyone who's said nice things about this story. I hope after reading this you'll continue to do so!

**Chapter 10**

"OK, Hayman will be assigned as a cell block cleaner until he's transferred to State Prison." Assistant Warden Morrison summed up the discussion of the Assignments Committee. He glanced down at his papers, "Now, we have two voluntary requests for work assignments on the Garbage Detail from pre-trial detainees, 25674, Jonathan Bristow and 25676, Arvin Sloane …Jimmy?"

The Works Superintendent looked up, "I can certainly use them. We're always short of workers since those awaiting trial can't be forced to work and the convicts are only here for a short time until they're moved to a State facility."

Morrison nodded and turned to the medical officer, "Doctor Mendes?"

"There are no medical reasons why they can't be assigned. In fact, they're in excellent shape, especially for men of their age."

Monica Swanson, the Education Supervisor shuffled her papers, "It says here these men both have university degrees. Why can't I have them as tutors for the literacy programme?"

"They specifically asked for the Garbage Detail," the Assistant Warden reminded her, "and we can't make them work if they don't want to." He checked his notes, then added, "Actually, the Lieutenant who took their requests says that they rejected his suggestion they work in the Library or the Education Department. They insisted on the Garbage Detail. Said they wanted to be occupied but on something completely different from the kind of work they did outside."

The Guard Captain grunted, "I don't trust this interest in fresh air and exercise." he said, "Who in their right mind wants to haul large bins of foul smelling garbage around when they can have a nice clean job teaching other inmates the alphabet? Don't forget, the Garbage Detail has access to almost every part of this facility. It's always been a favourite with potential escapers."

"Actually, their wish to do something completely different may be understandable Captain O'Brien." Chief Caseworker Barbara Heinrich noted, "They could be trying to maintain a psychological distance between their normal life and their current situation. If they took on a role for which they are well qualified they might think it means they're coming to terms with incarceration and accepting they could be found guilty. They would not want to face that possibility."

"According to the reports I've been getting, these guys have a very firm grasp on reality." Captain O'Brien noted grimly. "Don't forget, they were CIA Field agents. They won't be big on wishful thinking and they will be well trained in escape and evasion techniques. These are not the harmless, middle aged, middle class men they appear to be. Remember, shortly after they came in, they took down five members of the Latin Kings in a swift, decisive assault lasting, at most, seven minutes. What that says to me is they are highly skilled in unarmed, close combat fighting. I did three tours in 'Nam and I've met people like these before, sure they're well educated, sure, they've got all the right social skills but they are also completely ruthless and will do whatever it takes for their mission to be a success."

Assistant Warden Morrison considered the points raised for several minutes before giving his decision, "Give them the assignment." he said, before turning to O'Brien, "but make sure they're closely watched at all times. If they do anything even remotely out of the ordinary, I want them in the SHU before their feet have a chance to touch the ground. You and your guys haven't lost us one yet, Connie, I'm confident you're not going to let these be the first, if that's what they're planning."

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DA Arthur Branch strolled into the bar of the Manhattan Republican Club and looked around. A man waved at him from a corner and Branch walked over to join him.

The man rose and shook his hand. "Arthur. Nice to see you again. How's Angie? Sit down. What do you want to drink?" He looked round and signalled for a waiter.

"I'll have a whiskey and soda thanks Ted." Branch replied, "Angie's fine. How's Claire?"

"Fine, fine." replied senior Presidential advisor, Ted Perkins, "you know; only a few days ago I was reminiscing with her about how the two of us first met. We were both volunteers in Tony Steadman's campaign for the State Senate. You remember?"

Branch smiled at the fond memory. His drink arrived and he raised it in a toast. "To Tony Steadman, the first Republican elected to the Texas State Senate since the Civil War!" he toasted.

Ted Perkins raised his own glass and drank.

Branch put down his drink and looked at his old friend, "But you haven't come all the way from Washington to talk about the old days have you Ted?" It was a statement, not a question.

Perkins sighed. "I'm afraid not Arthur." he said. "The Bristow and Sloane case is causing problems for us at both Foggy Bottom and Capitol Hill. If there's a trial it could potentially be very damaging to both the country and the Party."

"The Selzer case." Branch corrected him, "He's the victim here and aren't we meant to be the party of victim's rights? Ted, we've known each other a long time. I told that Federal posse you sent to my office after Bristow and Sloane were arraigned and now I'm telling you. Over thirty years ago a young man was brutally murdered by two men who happened to be employed by the CIA. This is about making them pay for that crime, not some attempt to rake up dirt on the CIA. You have my word nothing damaging to Homeland Security will come out and I can't see how the Party can be affected by such ancient history. The President must still have been in short trousers when this all went down!"

"The Federal posse as you call it explained the political fallout in Latin America if this whole Allende coup thing is revived and it doesn't matter how old the President was when it happened. It's coming out on his watch and he'll take the political heat for it. That's the reality of politics; you know that as well as I do! As for Selzer, was he really a victim? He was giving aid and comfort to Communists. How do you know he wasn't one? At the very least he was supporting a guy willing to let the Soviets gain a foothold on the South American mainland with God knows what consequences!" Perkins tone became wheedling, "Look Arthur, I know the attitude of some of our bright young people pissed you off, but you can't let your emotions control your actions. You've got to keep the bigger picture in mind."

Branch's voice became cold, "James Selzer was a journalist. OK, so I don't agree with his political views or with the editorial policy of his newspaper any more than you do, but he was exercising his First Amendment right to freedom of expression and that is one of the things that makes this country great. Unless you can provide evidence that he did something more than that, he's still the victim here. Just because someone holds political views we both find wrong and foolish is no reason to kill them." He got up, "Thanks for the drink and the talk Ted but I have to go now."

"Arthur," Perkins said, "I ask you to reconsider. When you come up for re-election Republican donors might not be willing to support your campaign financially and you may not find too many high profile Republican's prepared to support your candidature."

Branch shrugged, "I'll take the risk." he said, "I owe it to James Selzer and his parents. They are decent, upstanding Americans who have never stopped seeking justice for their son all these years. I've seen the pictures of what the men you're trying to protect did to him. That shouldn't happen to anyone. Oh, by the way, you can re-assure your friends at Langley that I'm not going to be making an issue of the fact that Bristow and Sloane are still affiliated to the CIA."

He smiled at the stunned look on Perkins face, "If you'd wanted to keep that under wraps you shouldn't have sent such a high profile posse round so fast after the Arraignment." Then he walked away without a backward glance.

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"Just a little bit more powder on your jaw line Ms Bristow and you'll be fine." The make up artist padded the indicated area and stood back, "There, all finished."

Sydney looked at herself in the mirror. Quite frankly, she thought she looked awful but the woman had assured her it was necessary, otherwise she's look pale and washed out under the studio lights. _This is insane!_ she thought. _How can I continue to work undercover when I'm going to be seen on TV by millions of people?_

Then she thought of her father. She'd been to visit him at Riker's Island that morning and although he'd tried to appear upbeat, she could see that Rodriguez' betrayal and the prospect of spending more time in jail were having an effect on him. She turned to look at her sister who was having the finishing touches put to her make-up. Nadia gave her a smile and, not for the first time, Sydney was amazed at her optimism. _Still,_ she thought, _I guess after all she's been through; if you didn't have a positive attitude you'd have given up and died by now._

Rodriguez testimony had been damaging. He had confirmed on oath what he had told Nadia and her at his apartment. Wilson and Shapiro had been unable to shake his statement that their fathers had met with Pinochet before the coup and assured him of US support. They had not been willing to press him about the immunity deal he had made for fear it would make the situation worse by encouraging him to go into details about Selzer's murder, creating more prejudice against their fathers. The judge had found the testimony convincing and she and Nadia had had to sit and watch as their father's were, once again, led out to be returned to prison. This time she knew it would be months, at least, before there was a chance for them to be freed.

An emergency meeting, comprising, she and Nadia, their fathers' lawyers and CIA Director Healy had been held that afternoon at the CIA's Manhattan office and it had been agreed that they needed to go on a public relations offensive. The jury was out there and needed to be influenced. Hence, she and Nadia had agreed to appear on Thirty Minutes, a topical news show, broadcast throughout New York and surrounding states.

Nadia rose and joined her. The Production Assistant came over, "OK. We're cutting to the commercial break now. If you come this way we'll get you seated and Marcia Wyatt will introduce you to the audience and start the interview as soon as the break's over.

Sydney and Nadia looked at each other, took a deep breath and followed her out of the make up room and into the Studio.

Marcia Wyatt greeted them with a smile and waited for their mikes to be adjusted, then, after the Floor Manager had made a sign, she turned to a camera and began, "Tonight we have with us the daughters of the former CIA agents charged with the thirty year old murder of New Yorker James Selzer that is currently rocking this State and having reverberations as far as Washington. Good evening, Ms Bristow, Ms Santos. Can you tell us why you believe your fathers are innocent of this crime, after all neither of you were born when it was allegedly committed?"

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Jack and Sloane manoeuvred the large unwieldy bin round the corner trying to breathe through their mouths to avoid the evil odours emanating from it. They remembered the words of the guard who'd collected them from their cell block after breakfast that morning.

_"OK. You work five hours a day, except for weekends. The pay is $1 an hour, no work, no pay. Understand? That includes lawyers' visits so get them to come when you ain't working if you want to get paid. I hope you guys are up to this. It ain't a job for the weak stomached, if you get my meaning."_

They'd nodded their understanding and acceptance of the terms to the guard and followed him out.

With a flick of his eye, Jack indicated the watching guard. "He hasn't taken his eyes off us all the time we've been out here." he observed.

Sloane shrugged. "It's to be expected Jack. They're bound to be suspicious about our motives in taking this job but they won't be able to keep us under constant observation for ever, if we do nothing out of the ordinary and get a reputation as reliable workers those responsible for our immediate supervision will eventually relax."

Jack nodded his agreement with Sloane's analysis. He had to admit they had learned a lot just by performing the job. The geography of the facility was now clearer to them, as were the various security check points and they had also been able to ascertain the times the City garbage truck arrived at the prison. For a first day, it had been very productive.

Sloane glanced at him quickly, "What do you think about the Thirty Minutes interview Sydney and Nadia gave last night?" he asked. "I don't like the idea of them having to perform in public like that."

Neither of them had seen the interview, their fellow inmates preferring to watch a baseball game on another channel but they'd been fully briefed by their lawyers during the lunch break.

Jack lips twitched slightly, "Neither do I." he admitted. "But Sydney doesn't like to feel powerless. From what I know about Nadia it's a personality trait she shares and both of them must have been feeling precisely that since this thing began. At least with this and the other interviews coming up they can feel they're taking some sort of control over the situation."

Sloane indicated his agreement as they trundled the bin into line with the others and turned back towards the guard.

T.B.C.

**Capitol Hill** – Location of US Congress  
**Foggy Bottom** – Slang term for the US State department  
**SHU** – Special Housing Unit. High security area within a prison. A prison within a prison.


	11. Chapter 11

Hi. Sorry for the delay in posting but work's been really hectic and I've barely had a moment to call my own for ages. Anyway, I've finally found some time to post this update.

Hope you like. Please let me know! Thanks.

**Chapter 11**

"OK. I'll get the revised shift rosters for the holidays posted. Anything else? Fine, this meeting is ended. Thanks people." Captain O'Brien watched as his senior correctional staff began filing out. "Oh, Joe, can you stay awhile?" he asked.

Lieutenant Sawyer nodded and sat down again, giving him a questioning look. When the door had closed behind the others, O'Brien turned to him, "Bristow and Sloane, they've been on the Garbage Detail for over a month now. How's it going?"

"Officer Magruder says they're the best workers he's ever had. They're hard working, conscientious and have not created any disciplinary or security problems whatsoever. I know you think they may be planning an escape Connie but Magruder's been watching them closer than his teenage daughter's boyfriends and he reports they've done nothing even slightly suspicious."

O'Brien leaned back and considered, "Good, but warn him against getting complacent. These aren't the usual run of street criminals. They're well educated, highly intelligent, trained agents. That means they'll know as much or more as any of the hustlers and hoods we usually get in here. Their capacity for violence has already been demonstrated by their run in with the Latin Kings and we've got to assume that they're equally skilled in other areas associated with spying, like burglary, blackmail and the con game. Tell him and the rest of your people not to let their guard down around them for even a second. They are not the harmless businessmen they appear. If I had my way they'd be locked up in the SHU twenty-three hours a day until the trial."

"You sound like you don't like them." Sawyer noted with surprise, "and you've had almost no interaction with them. I've never known you have such strong views about an inmate before unless they were child molesters or serial killers! From what I read, even if they did kill this guy, they thought they were doing their patriotic duty."

O'Brien looked towards the flag draped from the stand in the corner of his office and nodded towards it, "I was a Navy Seal in 'Nam. I was proud of my uniform and what it represented. I was a patriot then and I'm one now, but what I saw, well … let's just say my idea of patriotism and the CIA's aren't the same! I see no nobility in torturing some kid by hacking off his fingers, then killing him. Plus, I got a record to uphold here. Since I became Guard Captain we haven't had a single escape and I don't want them to be the first. If anyone is capable of pulling off a break from this facility it's them. They will have the self-discipline, the skills, the ruthlessness and, much as I hate to admit it, the balls to do it."

Sawyer nodded as he got up to leave, "OK, I think you're over-reacting here but I'll remind Magruder not to ease up." he replied.

"Thanks. They're getting the standard 'pat down' when they return to their cellblock?" On receiving a nod from Sawyer, O'Brien went on, "From here on in, I also want them strip searched at regular intervals. I hope I am over reacting but my gut tells me we're sitting on a volcano here and it's only a matter of time before it erupts."

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Jack took a slug of water, trying to wash the after taste of the lukewarm meatloaf from his mouth. One of the advantages of working the Garbage Detail was that they got to eat lunch after the rest of the inmates had been served. Although this meant the food had already been sitting under the cafeteria heaters for an hour before they were fed, the mess hall was virtually empty and he and Sloane could talk without fear of being overheard.

He summarised the results of their month long review of the security arrangements. "The City truck arrives between 11:30 and 11:45 on Tuesdays and Fridays and takes approximately fifteen minutes to load the garbage before leaving. As a security measure the access gate to the outer yard is locked until the truck passes the main gate checkpoint on its' way out. We are confined to the inner yard from 11:15 until the main gate gives the all clear. During that period we are guarded by the Detail's C.O. and under the direct observation of two guard towers and then counted before being allowed to resume our duties. The access gate lock is electronic and can only be released from the Control Centre. I think we can rule out hiding in the outer yard and then slipping into the Garbage Truck when it leaves." he added dryly.

Sloane gave the remainder of his meatloaf a disgusted look before putting down his fork. He sighed, "You're right Jack. Whoever developed the security procedures here knows their job! We'll have to be more creative."

Jack nodded and gave him a tight smile, "With the exception of a few minor doors, all security functions in this facility are controlled by computer from the Centre. That's a tactical weakness in the system. If we can somehow re-programme it, we would be able to bypass all the security measures."

Sloane raised an eyebrow questioningly, "That's Marshall's area of expertise." he pointed out.

"You used to be quite good at accessing systems. The way you got into the FEMA telephone network when we were retrieving the plans for Camp Williams shows you haven't lost your touch. We don't need anything complicated, just a simple instruction for a particular door or gate to open on receipt of a given signal."

Sloane looked contemplative, "I might be able to do that, but I'll have to study the programme they're using and I doubt they're going to let me anywhere near any of the terminals."

"We empty the bins in the Control Centre." Jack pointed out. "Tomorrow, I'll create a diversion so you can review the computer system. But Arvin, remember, escape remains our option of last resort. Our ability to protect Sydney and Nadia from Elena would be seriously compromised as fugitives."

Sloane nodded his agreement. "Speaking of which, Shapiro has reported the outcome of his background checks on McCoy and Southerlyn. There's nothing useful on McCoy personally but he had a somewhat ambivalent relationship with his father who was a cop and, possibly, corrupt. We may be able to use that somehow but it's a long shot. Southerly, however, is a different matter. It appears that she is a lesbian who has yet to 'come out' at work. We should be able to exert pressure on her because of this. If nothing else, she could provide us with intel on McCoy's evidence and strategy."

Jack looked uneasy but he nodded as the mess hall guard yelled,

"Alright ladies, chow time's over. Get your butt's into gear and back to your assignments."

After a long look at each other which would have boded ill for the guard under almost any other circumstances, the two men got up, collected the trays with their half eaten meals and deposited them on the trolleys for the kitchen staff to deal with.

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Detective Ed Green unlocked the motel room door. "Here you are Mr and Mrs Alvarez. You'll be staying here until after the trial."

He went over and opened a connecting door, "This is Detective Mendez and Detective Connell. They'll work in shifts with me and Detective Briscoe. They'll always be someone on guard here. We'll be monitoring everyone who enters the motel and all your phone calls. You've been booked in under false names so no-one will be able to trace you here. You'll be perfectly safe but if you have even the slightest cause for concern or you want anything just knock on the door. OK?"

The elderly, frail looking couple nodded uncertainly but placed their suitcases on the bed.

"We have to go now." Lennie Briscoe said softly from the door, "but we'll be back at about six o'clock. We'll be bringing the Assistant District Attorney, Ms Southerlyn. You remember her? She's going to start prepping you to give evidence at the trial."

Eduardo Alvarez looked up from his unpacking. "This means you're giving my name to those animals' lawyers soon, yes?"

"Yes." Briscoe confirmed almost apologetically.

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McCoy sat in an interview room at the Manhattan Detention Centre watching Diego Rodriguez pacing. The interview wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. Although Rodriguez seemed happy enough to talk in generalities he was avoiding giving the specific information McCoy needed. Finally his patience ran out. "Mr Rodriguez, please let me remind you that your immunity deal is dependant on your testimony in this trial. If you don't co-operate, you'll grow old and die in places' like this."

Rodriguez looked at him like a cornered animal, "How can I be sure I'll live long enough to grow old?" he asked. "These men and the people they work for are ruthless and their arm is very long. If I help, they could kill me stone dead in my cell at anytime and what happens after the trial?"

"You're being held as a material witness and totally segregated from the other inmates. All the correctional officers assigned to your block have been with the Department for years and have excellent service records. Once the trial is over you can change your name and disappear. Sure they may be able to get at someone somehow or trace you after you're released, but if you don't co-operate I'll make sure you're placed in general population. What do you think your chances of survival will be then if they want you dead? Your best chance at living is to talk to me!"

Finally, Rodriguez nodded and sat down opposite him. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

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In the four weeks or so since the motions hearing Sydney and Nadia's lives had taken on a routine almost as regimented as their imprisoned fathers. When they weren't consulting with the lawyers or the CIA Manhattan office or giving media interviews, they would spend the morning shopping or sightseeing, visit their fathers in Riker's Island in the afternoon and watch TV in their hotel rooms or take in a movie or a show or sometimes visit a nightclub in the evenings. On Friday nights Vaughn and Weiss would fly in from L.A. and spend the weekend with them, leaving Sunday afternoon.

Christmas was only ten days away and Fifth Avenue was crowded with panic stricken shoppers and more leisured individuals enjoying the festive window displays as the two of them left FAO Schwarz after having bought gifts for Steven and Robin Dixon and Mitchell Flinkman. They intended to leave them at their hotel and then go on to the prison, arriving about 3:00 pm by which time their fathers would have finished their work assignment and had time to clean up.

"Vaughn and Eric said they'd spend the holiday with us." Nadia was saying, "And the hotel is going to town on holiday celebrations for the guests. They'll be parties and games and Christmas dinner! I know it's not the same as being home but …"

Sydney nodded, "There's no visiting Christmas Day, but we can see them for a couple of hours on the 26th." she finished.

Nadia sighed, "Do they do anything special to celebrate Christmas in American prisons?" she asked. "They try to In Argentina but here, I don't know. How would you normally celebrate the holiday?"

Sydney smiled, sadly, "Up to a few years ago I'd spend it with Francie and Will. We'd have a quiet meal, just the three of us, Danny, Charlie and whoever Will was seeing, then in the evening we'd throw a big party for all our friends. When I returned after that business with the Covenant my Dad brought a Chinese takeout over and we ate that. He had to leave after we'd finished and I spent the rest of the day watching old movies on television."

Nadia looked astonished. "That's the only time you spent Christmas Day with your father since you were a child and you ate Chinese! This would have been my first Christmas with my father and I was going to ask you what I should do!"

"Hey, after Mom left, well …my relationship with my Dad took a beating! We weren't close again until the last year really! Before all this happened I was sort of assuming we'd have the holiday meal together with Vaughn and Eric. I hadn't really thought beyond that."

As they were talking they had been walking down the street towards the subway, weaving in and out of the other shoppers. As they reached the steps down to the platforms a man rushed past them, knocking Sydney's arm and causing her to drop her parcels. He disappeared into the crowd without even offering an apology. After muttering an oath in the general direction he had gone, Sydney bent down to pick up her parcels.

"Thank God there's nothing breakable in here." she noted in an aside to Nadia as she scooped them up. Then she paused for a split second before standing up straight. "Let's get away from this madhouse before anything else happens." she added, leading the way down into the subway.

Once they were out of sight of street level, she turned to Nadia. "We're being followed." she said calmly and quietly. "A man, short, middle-aged, balding. He was outside the hotel when we left it this morning and I passed him when I went to the ladies room at Macy's during Brunch. He's behind us now."

"A cop, maybe a journalist?" Nadia asked.

"I don't know…"

T.B.C.


	12. Chapter 12

New Chapter everyone. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for the interest and reviews to date. These are very much appreciated.

**Chapter 12**

Jack came out of the Correctional Officers Rec. Room and dumped the contents of the waste bin into the container on the trolley Sloane was pushing. He returned the bin to the room and re-entered the corridor. By the time he returned Sloane and the trolley had moved on. They were waiting outside the door to the Control Centre. Sloane glanced towards him, his eyes asking a question, Jack blinked quickly, an almost imperceptible gesture but one he knew Sloane would pick up on. Sloane moved to the door and knocked.

"Garbage detail, Sirs." he called respectfully, "Here to empty the wastepaper bins."

Jack watched as the C.O.'s on duty looked through the bullet proof, shatterproof plexi-glass that made up one wall of the Control Centre. Recognising Sloane and himself, one of the guards buzzed open the door. Sloane went in, picked up a waste paper basket and began to slowly move round the room emptying the others into it. Jack remained outside. As a security measure only one inmate was permitted to be in the Control Centre at any one time. As usual, the C.O. who was guarding them, Officer Magruder, also remained outside. There were three guards on duty in the Centre and he obviously felt his priority was to keep an eye on the inmate remaining outside.

Jack leant over the trolley and put his hands inside the container, pretending to push down it's contents as he slipped a match from his shirt sleeve and surreptitiously flicked his thumbnail against its' head, the sound of his activity covered the noise as the match catching fire. He let it fall into the garbage and waited. Soon smoke was rising from the container.

"Damn it!" He glared at Officer Magruder, "One of your guys has been having illicit smokes in the Rec. Room. I saw the butts when I was emptying the bins but I thought they were out. One of them must have been smouldering and now look what's happened, its set light to the rest of the trash! You've got to sound the fire alarm, then we need an extinguisher."

Magruder looked uncertain. Jack knew what was going through his mind; in fact he and Sloane were relying on it. If he raised the alarm or used an extinguisher as regulations required, he would have to make an official report of the incident and, if Jack was telling the truth, a fellow guard would get into trouble for smoking inside a city building, which was a disciplinary offence. Magruder wouldn't want that if it could be avoided. Jack waved his hand, fanning the smoke outwards. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guards in the Control Centre get up and move towards the glass separating them from the corridor to get a better view of what was going on. Sloane gave him an approving nod as he faded back towards one of the abandoned terminals.

Jack piled on the pressure, "Mr. Magruder, if you don't do something quickly this could turn into a major fire. It'll probably cost the City a lot of money to repair the damage and all sorts of questions are going to be asked."

"Stay here; don't move until I come back!" Magruder came to a decision. He ran down the corridor, disappearing into the C.O's Rest Room. Jack could hear the sound of a tap being turned on and water pouring into some sort of receptacle. Magruder was out of the way for the time being, now he had to keep the other guards busy until Sloane was finished.

He turned towards the glass wall, "Aren't you people aware of the health risks associated with smoking?" he asked conversationally. Behind the three officers, he could see Sloane hunched over one of the terminals, calmly clicking the mouse as he explored the system.

Best to keep talking to cover any noise, "So, who do you think was careless enough not to stub out their butt properly?" he asked.

"That's none of your concern, inmate." one of the guards, whose yellowing index and middle fingers indicated a potentially guilty conscience, told him coldly.

Flames were now beginning to lap over the sides of the bin. This didn't come as any surprise to Jack, he and Sloane had made sure there was plenty of paper and other combustibles in there before it was set alight. The show had to have plenty of visual interest to keep the onlookers attention; otherwise one of them might get bored and turn round to catch Sloane in the act.

"Bristow, stand away from the trolley and try not to inhale the smoke. You don't want to end up in the Infirmary." another guard ordered sharply.

Jack suspected the order had been given more from a wish to keep the incident quiet than any concern for his health but he complied with pleasure; he had to admit he was becoming a little uncomfortable breathing in the acrid fumes. He saw Magruder exit the Rest Room carrying a plastic bucket, obviously used for cleaning.

"Ah, here comes the Fire Department!" he called.

It was the code phrase he'd arranged with Sloane who stopped, erased the evidence of his activity, picked up the waste bin he'd been using and strolled over to stand behind the guards. "Well, at least it's something to talk to our daughters about next time they visit." he observed genially as Magruder poured the water into the flaming container, "You have no idea how difficult it is to find new topics of conversation when you've been incarcerated for nearly three months"

The fire began to smoulder but didn't go out completely. Magruder went back to refill his bucket while one of the Control Room guards turned to Sloane.

"Haven't you finished yet?" she asked. "Well, get on with it and get out." She nodded towards the bin in his hand, "Once you've emptied that, leave it outside and one of us will bring it in later."

"Yes, Ma'm." Sloane replied meekly, only Jack picking up the tinge of sarcasm in his response. He emptied the last basket and was buzzed out.

He and Jack stood and watched as Magruder finished putting out the fire. Once he was certain it was extinguished, he leant over and examined the black-brown sludge that now filed the container. With a grimace of disgust, he put his hand inside and lifted out several half smoked and now water-logged, cigarette butts. He looked at his colleagues in the Control Centre for a moment and an unspoken agreement was reached between them.

Turning towards Jack and Sloane, he said, "OK. It's out now, so no harm, no foul, understand? If either of you mention this; I will make it my personal objective to send both of you to the Hole. That means lock down 23/7 and no visits from those daughters of yours. You're smart, why do hard time if you don't have to?"

Jack and Sloane looked at each other.

"If that's what you want Mr. Magruder." Sloane answered.

Jack shrugged, "As you observed, no harm, no foul." he replied.

When Magruder's back was turned, they exchanged a satisfied smile.

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Serena Southerlyn closed the door to her apartment behind her. She felt tired but content. She had spent the last few hours working with Eduardo Alvarez and was reasonably satisfied that he would make a credible and damaging witness for the prosecution. His memory of the events leading to James Selzer's murder was excellent, even after thirty years. He sounded sure of his facts and, try as hard as she could; she had been unable to trip him up on any of them. She was certain he would stand up well to cross-examination providing he could control his emotions when he described the torture he and Selzer had endured and toned down his tendency to blame the United States rather than Bristow and Sloane for their suffering. She wasn't sure how that would play with a post 9/11 jury but she was working with him on it and he was making good progress.

She stooped to pick up her mail and walked into the kitchen. _A nice fruit tea, then bed I think_. She switched on the kettle and popped an apple and strawberry teabag into a mug, leafing through the letters as she waited for the kettle to boil. _Bill, bill, junk mail, letter from Aunt Caroline, more junk mail… hello what's this?_ She looked down at a brown, hard backed, large envelope. It was clearly addressed to her but the writing was in block capitals and she didn't recognise the handwriting. She inserted her fingernail under the seal and lifted it, then extracted the contents.

Serena stared in horror at the first of five 8''X61/2'' glossy photographs. It showed her and Jenny Gardiner, her current lover, in a restaurant. The two of them were reaching across the table to hold hands. She quickly checked the others, they were all of her with Jenny and, while none showed them being intimate, there was one of them kissing passionately and it was clear from the others that they were considerably more than just good friends. Somebody had been stalking her and taking pictures of her meetings with Jenny! She dived for the envelope and looked inside, it was empty, no note, nothing. She turned the pictures over and examined their backs. They were blank.

She sat back ignoring the kettle as it boiled and switched itself off. _Who had sent these to her and why? _The 'why' was easy, it had to be extortion. But, in that case, there should be a note. For a moment, she considered the possibility that she had been targeted by some radical organisation and this was their way of warning her to go public with her sexuality before they outed her. However, it was much more likely to be related to a case she was working. She ran through the possibilities, _Mendes? A cheap street hood who didn't have the brains or the resources for this sort of play, a knife or a gun was more his and his associates style. The Wilmington case? No, Mrs. Wilmington had the intelligence and the money to arrange this, but she was impatient, that was why she got caught. She would have included her demands with the pictures. _

In fact, she was currently working on only one case where the defendants had the intelligence, the resources and the expertise to exert his kind of subtle pressure, Bristow and Sloane. _No doubt they learn this kind of thing at spy school,_ she thought dully _and I bet they've honed their skills over the years flipping enemy agents and government officials. This is just a beginning. They'll follow up with other photographs, no doubt showing even more intimate moments between Jenny and me; then when they think I've been softened up enough, they'll make their demands._

_I should report this,_ she thought. _There might be fingerprints on the envelope or forensics might be able to lift some DNA from the flap if it was licked down, heck, even the postmark could provide a clue!_ She got up and was about to make for the phone, when she stopped. _What's going to be Arthur Branch's reaction when he finds out I'm a lesbian? He's a Republican and a Texan. Neither are exactly big on alternative sexuality. Oh, he can't fire me, or even demote me because of my sexual orientation but there was that case last year in Nebraska, when a Republican D.A. fired an A.D.A. after he found out she was gay. He said it was because she'd screwed up on a case. When the woman sued, the court upheld the firing despite her showing straight A.D.A's had made similar errors and gotten away with formal reprimands._

_But if I don't report it; they'll probably send the pictures to him anyway. The alternative is to compromise my professional and personal integrity and give in to the blackmail. What am I going to do? If only Nora was still DA or even Adam Schiff, I'd feel a lot safer in taking this to them. I could tell Jack but he'd have to report it to Branch so that's not a solution either!_

Her head was still spinning when she got, up and went to her bedroom, totally ignoring the empty mug and rapidly cooling kettle. She lay beneath the covers but sleep wouldn't come.

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"What do you think?" Nadia twirled, showing off her new strapless black dress, lightly decorated in silver filigree.

Sydney looked up from the dressing table and gave her sister an appreciative smile, "You look great!" She stood up to reveal her own dress, classic black with a low but tasteful neckline, "What about me?"

Nadia grinned, "We'll be the belles of the ball!"

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Vaughn's voice called, "Are you ready? Can we come in?"

"Sure!" Sydney replied and Vaughn and Weiss entered; both were dressed smart-casual.

"Well." Weiss remarked, running his eyes over Nadia. "I'm going to be the envy of every guy in New York tonight!"

"WE'RE going to be the envy of every guy in New York." Vaughn corrected him, taking in Sydney's appearance. "Shall we go?" He offered her his arm, playfully.

"Just one more thing." Sydney said. "Comms check. One, two, three, four."

"Receiving you loud and clear Phoenix." Marshall's cheerful voice sounded over their earpieces loud and clear from L.A.

Sydney nodded, "Now we're ready. Let's go and play bait for whoever's been following Nadia and me."

"Remember, even if you see them, you're not to engage." Dixon's warm tones came over the comms units. "The purpose of this exercise is for our tails to make an I.D., then follow them. We need to know who's behind this."

"We know that." Sydney replied. She looked at the others, "Right. Let's go."

They followed her out of the room.

T.B.C.

Glossary

The Hole – slang term for punishment cells in a prison.


	13. Chapter 13

Hi All, I've been posting the chapters of this story on SD1 first so FanFiction is a little behind. With SD1's regrettable closure I am posting chapters 13 - 22 here at once thus bringing the story up to date.

I would like to thank Spying on Jack over at SD1 who co-authored the latter part of Chapter 13 with me

So, without further ado...

**Chapter 13**

"Do you think we're getting old?" Sydney asked as she and Vaughn watched Nadia and Weiss dancing. They were sitting at a table on the upper level of 'Flames', currently Manhattan's hottest nightclub among the sophisticated over twenty-five set, looking down at the dance floor which was lit up by multi-coloured lights pulsing in time to the beat. One wall displayed a back projection of a burning fire, from which the club got its name.

Vaughn smiled at her, his green eyes crinkling, "No, we're just pacing ourselves!" he replied.

They continued watching as Weiss gave Nadia an exuberant kiss as the set ended, then followed her up the stairs back to the table. Weiss sat down heavily and took a long drink from his beer.

"Whoa, that really takes it out of you!" he observed, "It uses up more energy than a cross country run in full combat gear!"

Vaughn grinned at his friend, "Or you're out of condition." he suggested, looking meaningfully at Weiss's stocky form.

Weiss opened his mouth to reply, but the upcoming good natured argument was forestalled by Nadia.

"Any sign of our shadow?" she asked.

"We haven't made him." Sydney replied. "Outrigger, Merlin?"

"Our people haven't sighted him yet either." Dixon's voice came over their comms.

"Maybe, it's his night off?" the nervous voice of Marshall suggested, "You know, union rules or something."

Nadia and Sydney looked at each other, "Maybe you're on to something there, Merlin." Sydney said slowly. "What if he's not the only one? Maybe he's part of a team?"

Nadia took up and ran with the idea, "If that's the case, even if they're here, we'll never be able to ID them. This place is too crowded."

"That's definitely a possibility Phoenix, and if you're right, Evergreen is correct. The nightclub is an unsuitable location to identify them." Dixon observed. His tone became decisive. "Give me five minutes to get our people into position, then leave. We'll see if anyone follows you."

"Copy that." All four of them acknowledged.

"Why does work always interfere when I'm starting to have a good time?" Weiss bemoaned.

They finished their drinks and left the table, pushing their way through the crowded club to the cloakroom, where they collected their coats. Soon, they were standing on the sidewalk, outside. The area was crowded, the queue of people waiting to enter 'Flames' stretched around the block as late night revellers going to and from other clubs in the vicinity scurried past.

"Anything?" asked Vaughn.

"Negative, Shotgun." answered Dixon, "There's still too many people. Take a walk; try to find somewhere quieter."

"There's an all night Art-House cinema three blocks from here." suggested Nadia. "It's showing _Historias mínimas_ by Carlos Sorin. That's not going to be crowded at this time of night.

Seeing the others stare at her, she shrugged, "What can I say? I was planning on going to see it anyway. It's one of my favourite movies."

"That sounds as good as anything." Dixon noted. "Proceed. I'll alert our people."

The party set off in the direction Nadia indicated, Vaughn and Weiss draping their arms around Sydney and Nadia. Just two couples on a normal double date.

"I wonder what these people's agenda is?" wondered Sydney as they strolled along.

"We don't have enough intel yet to even speculate." Vaughn responded. "It could be work related or even have something to do with your fathers' current predicament. Talking of which," he added, "Have you told them about any of this?"

"No." Sydney said. "We discussed it but decided against it. You know how over protective my father, at least, can be. After all, we're professional agents. We felt we could handle it without worrying them. Anyway, what can they do from – where they are?"

"Probably escape and kill whoever is behind this." Weiss joked.

"Don't say that, even as a joke. Given everything they've done, we thought that was a real possibility and we didn't want it to happen." Nadia responded. "They're in enough trouble as it is. We'll tell them when it's all over."

As they walked, the crowds thinned out and all four suddenly heard Dixon's triumphant voice over the comms.

"Got him!" he said with satisfaction. "He followed you out of the club and he's still on your tail. You were right. It's not the guy you described. So, there is some sort of organisation behind this."

It took all of their self control not to turn round immediately to take a good look at their shadow but Sydney knew she had to see him so she waited for an opportunity and, as they passed a shop window, she let out a cry of excitement. "Oh, look at that! Isn't it great?"

It was a sports shop. The window was dressed to show a skiing scene complete with a miniature working chair lift and skaters going round and round on a turntable disguised as an iced over lake. She pulled Vaughn towards the window and Nadia and Weiss followed. All four of them pretended to be engrossed in the scene but were really using the opportunity to see the man who was following them reflected in the window.

"He's at nine o'clock." reported Dixon and four pairs of eyes flicked to the spot indicated. They saw a youngish man, dressed pretty much like Vaughn and Weiss in the smart casual attire that would have made him virtually invisible in the nightclub.

"You are not to engage him. We need to know the identity of his employer." Dixon firmly reminded them. "Act normally for the remainder of the evening and we'll follow this guy once he's relieved and see who he reports to."

It went against every instinct they had but the logic was unanswerable.

"Copy that." They all acknowledged; their frustration obvious to their listeners.

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Serena stared through the window of the diner. As she expected Briscoe and Green were there, sitting at a table putting away substantial breakfasts. She knew that, cases permitting; they always ate here before their shift began.

She had tossed and turned for the remainder of the night and had not come to any conclusion but, sometime in the early hours, she had hit on a compromise. She pushed open the door and entered, sitting down at the table with them.

Briscoe looked at her in surprise, "Slumming, Ms Southerlyn?" he asked. "This is the first time we've had the pleasure of your company here." He looked more closely and added in a more concerned voice, "Are you OK? You look like you didn't sleep too good last night."

Serena took a deep breath, "I came here to ask for a favour. Can you guys look into something informally for me without asking any questions about why I want to know?"

Briscoe and Green exchanged looks.

"Sure, providing you're not asking us to do anything illegal." Green responded.

"Nothing like that." she replied. Serena produced the envelope that had contained the photographs of herself and Jenny. She had wrapped it in a clear plastic bag in an attempt to preserve any forensic evidence. "Last night I got home and found this had been delivered." She placed it on the table. "I want you to see if you can find out who sent it. Can you help? It's important to me."

She could see that both detectives were filled with questions but they controlled their natural inquisitiveness. They stared at the envelope, no doubt wondering what had been in it, finally they nodded.

"OK." Green said, "We'll let you know if we find out anything."

Serena looked at them both, "This is just between us." she emphasised. "Please don't talk to anyone else about it, even Jack McCoy."

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Arvin Sloane lay on his bunk reading _Raiders of the Sagebrush_. He had jammed his pillow against the wall behind his head and was feeling as comfortable as could reasonably be expected in the circumstances. Westerns were not his preferred reading matter but recently both he and Jack had noticed increased delays in receiving deliveries of items they had ordered from outside and, when they eventually arrived, it was clear they had been subjected to rigorous examination.

Having run out of anything to read and beggars not having the luxury of choice, he had swapped a bar of soap and two candy bars for the loan of this book. Technically, this was a violation of the rules, inmates were not allowed to barter items, but, even if he was caught, he felt he was reasonably safe from being written up; at least until the sludge ridden garbage container was removed from the jail. The guards would be unwilling to discipline him over such a minor matter in case he gave up their colleagues for their failure to report a fire.

He turned the page, then heard a familiar voice.

"Arvin."

"Jack." he acknowledged the presence of the man he still considered his friend, put the book down and sat up, indicating for Jack to join him on the bunk. They had not had an opportunity to speak without being overheard since he had hacked the control centre system. Although the cells had recently been unlocked and everyone was free to associate, he had deliberately not sought Jack out, waiting to see how long it would be before he came to him. Sloane looked at his watch, ten minutes; good, Jack was genuinely committed to the operation.

"Where's your cellmate?" Jack asked.

"On the Yard, he's trying to put on some muscle before going up-state." Sloane smiled as he replied. His cellmate was a college drop out convicted of running a meth. lab and waiting to be transferred to a State Prison to serve ten to twenty. On his committal, he'd been subjected to assault, both physical and otherwise, by other inmates. Noticing the caution with which they treated Sloane he had begged for protection, which Sloane had been pleased to grant – at a price. The kid now made Sloane's bunk, cleaned and tidied the cell and washed Sloane's personal clothing items. He was going to miss him when he finally went up-state.

Jack sat on the bunk. "What did you find out about the system?"

Sloane looked superior as he replied, "It's a standard DefGuard 3.5. It was state of the art when it was installed during the prison's renovation five years ago but now it's highly antiquated. The signals are transmitted along the standard electrical wiring for the building. If I can get hold of a laptop and access to the main junction box I can plug straight into the system and override any command entered by the Control Centre. I can also program in a time delay before the system executes any command I enter."

Jack's lips bent slightly. "Excellent. The only problem now is how we get hold of a laptop and then hide it until its needed; especially given the high level of surveillance and security we're under."

Sloane nodded. He's expected that interest in them both would reduce if they kept their heads down and caused no trouble but this hadn't happened. He knew that those at the very top of their profession not only demonstrated their complete understanding of its practical requirements but also had good instincts that they weren't afraid to follow. He and Jack both shared those characteristics, and so, it appeared did the Guard Captain of this facility. It was unfortunate but it had to be faced.

"We can't smuggle it in ourselves," he noted. "We're strip searched almost every time we leave the cellblock. If we pay someone else to do it, they are a potential security risk. I don't suppose you'd consider terminating them once they'd..?" He saw Jack's lips tighten and sighed, "No, I thought not. Well, that leaves us with a problem."

Then he had an inspiration. "They have laptops in the Education Department and that's located right next door to the Infirmary. Apart from the access gate to that section, all the doors have conventional locks. If we can arrange to be admitted to the Infirmary, it should be comparatively easy to get from there to the Education Department. Once we have the laptop we can go right ahead and stage our escape immediately!"

"We'd need to know more about the Infirmary routine and the security measures in place."

"An in-depth reconnaissance of that area is required." Sloane admitted. He stood up and squared his shoulders. Whatever happened, the next few days were going to be quite unpleasant. "Which do you prefer, the Infirmary or the Hole?"

Jack stood up to face him and, without warning, his fist lashed out, hitting Sloane squarely on the side of his face, cutting his lip and drawing blood. Sloane made no attempt to defend himself as another blow followed, then another.

Jack momentarily paused, giving Sloane a second to catch his breath from the beating he was dishing out. "Enough?" he asked quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sloane saw that several inmates had become aware of their fight and were moving rapidly toward his cell. Under his breath, he muttered, "Make it look real. We're about to have an audience."

Grabbing Sloane's shirtfront in one hand, Jack viciously backhanded him growling, "You snivelling sonofach!" Sloane raised his hands in a show of defence that Jack easily swept aside.

"I'm sick and tired of your lies and deceit!" he yelled.

Behind him, Jack heard voices shouting, "Do it man!" and "Hit him again!" He didn't need any urging as he vented some of the anger he'd held in check for many years. Finally, he had to reign himself in as Arvin began to slump. He didn't want to incapacitate Sloane for real. Besides, most of the blows he'd given were planned for maximum show and effect and not so much for true injury. Still, when he released Sloane, Arvin slid off the bed and onto the floor, his face a bloody mess and it was likely several severe bruises would be showing up.

Jack watched him fall with feigned disdain. Behind him, another voice said, "Ooooh, lover's quarrel!" He almost laughed at that, but his face remained a scowl as he stepped over Sloane's body to wash his hands at the sink. Sloane's blood and his own from several split knuckles washed down the drain. He knew his hands would probably swell and hoped it didn't hinder any fine motor control he might need. Before doing something like this again, he'd have to recommend that Arvin put on a little more weight for padding!

Turning, Jack didn't even glance down at Sloane as he walked to the door. The sea of prisoner onlookers parted out of his way with the exception of one burly looking man who blocked his path. Jack tried staring him down, but the man wouldn't budge. Finally, Jack asked, "You want some of what he got?"

"You think you could, old man?"

"The question is: are you willing to find out?"

After another long pause, taking each other's measure, the man finally backed out of his way. Inwardly, Jack sighed with relief. He'd been bluffing and was not at all sure he could have taken on the big man alone, especially with his hands beginning to ache. As he passed through the rest of the inmates, he felt all eyes upon him and wished he had an ally watching his back. Silently, he stalked to his own cell and went in, sitting down on his bunk, nearly exhausted.

In just a moment, he heard the commotion he'd been expecting as the alarm sounded off, meaning that Arvin had been discovered, or more likely, a stoolie had tipped off the guards. It was only a few seconds later that two guards appeared in his doorway and ordered, "Face down on the floor, Bristow!"

He complied, as it was not part of the plan to appear innocent.

"You move a muscle and you'll be tazered! Understand?" one of the guards yelled at him as Jack lowered himself to the floor. "Arms by your sides, palms down!"

Jack did as he was told, feeling the strain in his neck and shoulders from that position. One guard knelt behind him and handcuffed him behind his back. "Yep, looks like he was the one." The guard said and Jack could only surmise that he'd seen his skinned knuckles. The guard slipped a restrain belt around his waist and hooked the handcuffs to it, then roughly hauled him to his feet.

"You want to explain why you decided to beat the crap out of your buddy?" the guard asked. Jack didn't reply, but just looked at them disinterestedly. "Well, mister, you're going to regret that little incident. We'll see how you like cooling off in The Hole!"

With that, they led Jack off to the detention centre. He barely caught a glimpse of the gurney taking Arvin off to the infirmary. Phase one of the plan was in play.

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Sloane returned to consciousness but, with the skill drawn from long experience, gave no outward sign of the fact. He needed to evaluate his situation to know how best to play the next few moments. He was lying on a firm but comfortable surface and hands were professionally examining his body. _Good, I'm in the Infirmary._

He raised his arms defensively. "No!! Jack, let me explain! For God's sake, man, just listen to me!" he shouted as hands grabbed his arms and tried to pull his arms away from his face. He resisted, continuing to protest.

"It's OK. Relax. No one's trying to hurt you!" a man's voice said. "You're in the Infirmary now. Relax!"

"No, please, stop…!" he cried one more time, before letting the doctor move his arms down.

"It's OK. You're safe now." He coaxed as Sloane opened his eyes, finding one already swollen. He moaned dramatically.

"Relax. I need to examine your wounds," the doctor ordered.

Sloane did as he was told, his suppressed groans of pain a master study in agony stoically endured as he was poked and prodded. One spot on his ribcage really did hurt, drawing a genuine yelp when the doctor palpated it. For effect, he complained loudly, "That bastard broke my ribs!"

The doctor called for the portable X-ray machine and indeed it later revealed he had a hairline fracture. Most of his other injuries were deemed not too serious and no internal injuries were discovered. Upon completing his exam, the doctor proceeded to put a few stitches into his split lip and several steri-strips were used to close up cuts on one cheek and above the other eye.

The doctor and the guard debated whether to send him back to his cell and he protested.

"Jack will only start where he left off! I tried to talk to him but he won't listen to reason! He's completely out of control at the moment!"

The guard told him that Jack had been sent to detention and Sloane nodded, saying, "That's good. It'll give him some time to calm down and reflect. But I still can't go back yet." He made the physical and mental adjustments needed to appear as small and frail as possible. "Look at me; I'm a middle aged business man! You know how it works in the cell blocks. I was able to survive before because the other inmates bought into this CIA black operations garbage the D.A. is spreading about us and I had Jack to watch my back. I don't have those protections anymore and an injured man is an easy target for the predators down there!"

He turned to the doctor, a pleading expression on his face, "You're a professional man like me. Could you survive even a day in general population, especially when you're injured?"

He watched as the doctor's expression softened before decreeing that he should spend a few days in the Infirmary, at least until his rib healed, before being sent back. It was exactly the result Sloane had worked towards and he lay back with a satisfied sigh.

T.B.C.

**Glossary**

**Write up** – Report for a disciplinary infraction.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The metal panel covering the narrow observation window clanged open. "On your feet, Bristow, the Captain wants to speak to you." the guard tersely ordered.

Jack rose from the poured concrete ledge that was the only furniture in the Special Housing Unit's cells and strolled over to the door.

"Yes?" he asked calmly.

Although the cell and the corridor outside were in semi darkness, he could just about make out the vague outlines of the man outside's features through the thick, reinforced glass. His rank insignia, however, gleamed brightly on his shoulders. _Well, we've finally got O'Brien's personal attention_ he thought.

The other man paused, obviously carefully considering his words.

"Why did you beat up on your co-defendant? Before this morning the two of you seemed closer than an old married couple." he finally asked.

Jack's face remained an impassive mask as he replied, "Personal reasons."

Captain O'Brien gave a harsh bark, "They must have been! My officers tell me as soon as they appeared, you stepped back and let them 'cuff you and bring you down here."

"Sloane understands why I did it; he also knows that the matter is now closed." Jack said.

"And what exactly was this matter causing you to beat the hell out of a guy you've known for over thirty years?"

Jack's response was calm but determined, "As I've already said, it was a private matter between Sloane and myself that how now been resolved. I have no intention of revealing the details to anyone else."

"So when he gets out of the Infirmary and you get out of here, you're just goanna' kiss and make up? I don't think so Mister! This is a prison, MY prison. There's nothing private and personal in here, especially when it interferes with good order and discipline." O'Brien's tone was harsh, level and equally determined, "I've had my eye on the two of you since you came in and let me tell you this. You will stay here in the Hole, with loss of all privileges, until I get some answers!"

The Captain stood back and the panel crashed shut in Jack's face, leaving him alone in the bare, badly lit cell. Jack shrugged and once more went to sit on the ledge composing himself for a long wait. He wondered how Sloane was progressing with his part of the operation. _Hopefully I didn't hurt him so badly as to interfere with his ability to carry it out!_

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Thank you Warden." Jack McCoy put down the phone and turned to Serena Southerlyn, his expression thoughtful.

"That was Assistant Warden Morrison from Riker's Island." he reported. "Apparently Bristow has just beaten up on Sloane, putting him in the prison Infirmary with a suspected concussion."

"A falling out?" Serena kept her face and tone neutral but inside her heart beat faster as she wondered what, if any, effect this development would have on her situation.

McCoy sat back and began tapping his pen on the desk. "That's how it looks." he said.

Serena tried to act naturally, as if this was just another case. "You think one may be willing to flip on the other now?"

"I don't know, Serena. The question is; do we need them anymore? After what they did to James Selzer I don't want either of them to get a walk and now we've got Rodriguez's testimony as well as Alvarez we can put them both away for twenty five to life. The only way I'd offer either a deal is if they were prepared to give me their boss and the fact they've fallen out with each other doesn't mean they've changed their mind on that."

He can to a decision, "It won't do any harm to find out. Contact their attorneys and make appointments for us to see them."

Serena pushed down her rising panic at the thought to facing the two men who were trying to blackmail her and nodded. "OK, Jack." she said. As she moved to comply, she wondered how Briscoe and Green were doing trying to trace the envelope.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Any joy, Doc.?" Lennie Briscoe asked.

"No fingerprints, either inside or out." 'Doc' Rawlings, who handled most of the 29th Precinct's crime scene work, responded. "The envelope is mass produced, cheap and available from almost any stationer's store in the city. No DNA on the flap or stamp. The postmark is Lower Manhattan, good luck trying to track it through one of the busiest sorting offices' in the nation!"

"So you got nada?" Green clarified.

Rawlings' face broke into a grin. "I didn't say that! I got a couple of our eager beaver trainees to work on it. One of them noticed some indentations on the back. Someone had used it to lean on when they were writing. We put it under a microscope and brought the words up. It was a partial name and address. Here's a photo. "

Briscoe looked down, "It looks like an address." he noted. "Pod… something or maybe something …Pod of something E 61st and something Street." he read. His voice took on a sarcastic tone, "Thanks Doc. Do you know how many places that could be?"

Rawlings shrugged, "Hey, you were lucky we got that much. If this trainee hadn't been so alert, chances are it would have been missed completely."

"You do good work Doc." Green assured him, "That's why we came to you with this. Lennie and I owe you one and remember, not a word to anyone."

"Yeah, but you've really got my imagination working overtime! As for the favour, I'll collect, Ed, believe me, I'll collect." Rawlings replied as the two detectives left the lab.

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Arvin Sloane lay on his bed in the Infirmary pretending to be asleep. _Either I'm getting old or Jack hit a bit harder than strictly necessary - possibly both!_ he thought. He was relieved that the pain from the beating was finally beginning to subside and that the medical personnel had identified his allergy to morphine. _Or maybe they don't think criminals deserve the luxury of painkillers_ he added cynically.

He was in a ward holding ten beds but, apart from himself, only three were currently occupied. A female nurse sat at a station at the far end. Although the lighting was subdued, it was bright enough for her to see any movement by her patients.

_That's inconvenient; if we make our move from here we may have to subdue her. On the other hand, she must take a break sometime or just need to answer a call of nature. The other patients will also need to be neutralised. Alternatively, we may be able to use them to create a diversion_ he mused.

Another complication was the glass partition which reached halfway down the wall with the corridor, allowing the duty guard to check on the status of the ward and its inmate patients when he made his rounds. Sloane had kept an eye on the wall mounted clock and calculated that he passed by every thirty minutes of so.

_Making our move during the day may be a better option_ he thought, _more activity, more people. Our activities would go unnoticed for a longer period. I think I'll extend my stay to observe the day time routine fully._

Besides, he thought, spending another day in the Infirmary had other advantages. Soft beds, clean, freshly laundered sheets, better food and comparative peace and quiet, almost a vacation! He spared a thought for Jack sitting in the Hole. _Oh well, I gave him the choice of which role to play. It's a good thing I was right, and he preferred hitting me to a couple of days of comparative luxury!_

As he considered the implications of this for their continuing relationship, the sound of jangling keys turning in a lock interrupted his thoughts. He turned his eyes towards the door and watched as the guard slowly opened it and quietly crept in. The nurse looked up and greeted him with a smile before getting up and embracing him. Sloane watched as they kissed passionately, then, after casting watchful eyes towards the four patients, made their way towards the storeroom.

_Well, well, well._ he thought. _A prison romance!_ He checked the clock and settled down to see how long it would take them to consummate their passion.

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Sydney and Nadia crept through the abandoned warehouse. Breaking in had been easy. There were only two watchmen on duty. It was a cold night and they were holed up in the warmth on their cabin, taking occasional pulls from their hip flasks.

As missions went, this was the equivalent of a routine training exercise and she would have enjoyed it more if the outcome hadn't been so personal and the relationship between her and her sister had been less tense.

Sydney remembered the discussion at the CIA Manhattan officer earlier in the day.

_"…once he was relieved, we followed him back to a warehouse in the Red Hook district of Brooklyn." Dixon's tones came over the loudspeaker in Director Healy's office. "The warehouse and attached office space is owned and operated by an import-export business, Schirovsky Trading, specialising in dealings with the former Soviet Union. We're running a check on the company and its senior personnel now."_

Sydney, Nadia, Vaughn, Weiss and Director Healy sat listening to his report.

"There's no need." Director Healy replied. "The outfit's already known to me. It's owned by a guy called Anatoly Schirovsky. He was a low level freelance operative during the Cold War. When that ended, so did his usefulness to us. Nowadays he concentrates on his legitimate business with a little smuggling of caviar and vodka on the side."

"With respect Director, I doubt he was following Sydney and Nadia because he was worried they'd interfere with his caviar smuggling ring. He's clearly still in the spy game." Vaughn pointed out.

Healy nodded. "Yes. But I doubt he's the person behind all this. If I know Schirovsky he's just doing the job for money. I'll have him brought in and interrogated but if the person who employed him is a pro,. they'll probably have dealt with him through cut outs."

Sydney frowned, "If we do that, it might alert whoever's employing him and make it more difficult to trace them. I say we break in and look around. There might be leads in his office or on his computer that we can follow up."

Healy played with his pen.

"I don't know." he said, "You'll be walking into the lion's den. For all we know, that's exactly what they want. What if you're caught? Your fathers would never forgive me. I know them both by reputation and, believe me, I was a field agent for over ten years but I do not want to feel the wrath of either Jack Bristow or Arvin Sloane! I'm not against the plan in principle; I just think it would be better to send in other agents."

"It's the weekend before the holidays." Nadia pointed out impatiently. "There's no evidence they know we're on to them and this close to Christmas, their security is likely to be quite relaxed. Sydney and I have carried out much more difficult operations."

"I'm sure you already know that Ms Bristow and Ms Santos are both trained and experienced agents." Weiss added. "Agent Vaughn and I will act as backup."

"Err... excuse me." Marshall's voice sounded apologetic. "But this is also an opportunity to bug Schirovsky's telephone. That's got to be a good thing."

Healy turned towards the loudspeaker, "Acting Director Dixon?" he asked.

"Let them do it." Dixon's voice answered. "If you don't, they'll go in anyway."

"Alright." Healy decided. "Go over to op-tech and get what you need."

He ended the call as the younger agents began to file out. As they stood in the doorway to the office, the phone rang and he picked it up. After listening for a moment, he called out.

"Ms. Bristow, Ms. Santos, please stay behind for a minute."

Nadia and Sydney returned to the seats they had just vacated and sat waiting while Healy listened, his face becoming graver by the second. Finally he said "Thank you, Thirly." and hung up.

He turned to Sydney, "That was your Father's attorney." he explained. Then he caught Nadia's eye and brought her into the conversation. "I'm sorry, there's no easy way of breaking this to you. Ms. Bristow, your Father is in solitary confinement with loss of all privileges after beating up on Ms Santos' Father. He refuses to explain why he did it to anyone, including his lawyer. Ms Santos will be able to visit her Father in the Infirmary at the prison, but I'm afraid, you will not be permitted to see yours Ms. Bristow while he remains under punishment." 

T.B.C.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Nadia stood clad only in her bra and panties as a female guard carefully examined every stitch and lining of her clothing. Finally satisfied she wasn't attempting to smuggle forbidden items into her father, she pushed the pile of items back across the table.

"OK, you can get dressed now."

She watched as Nadia quickly put her clothes back on then, when Nadia was ready, she pressed a button and the barred gate behind her slid open. A male guard appeared.

"Officer Estevez will take you to Inmate Sloane. Don't think that because he's in the Infirmary there will be any relaxation in the visiting regulations. The officer will remain with you for the duration of the visit to ensure they are followed."

Nadia nodded her understanding and followed the other guard deeper into the prison. As they walked down the bare, institutional green painted corridors, stopping frequently to pass through more locked gates, she tried to prepare herself for what she might find when she finally reached her father.

Her mind went back to her conversation with her sister, just before she had set off alone for Rikers Island.

Last night's mission had gone without a hitch. They had bugged Schirovsky's telephone, downloaded the contents of his computer and gone through the filing cabinets, photographing anything interesting. The CIA, Vaughn, Eric and Sydney were going through the stuff for leads, while Marshall sat in L.A. monitoring Schirovsky's calls.

Sydney had been trying to avoid talking with her about Jack's attack on her father. Every time she had tried to raise the subject, her sister had used some excuse or another to put off the conversation. First it had been the operation, then it had been the need to analyse the intel obtained. Finally, as she had been preparing to leave, she had called Sydney on it and they had had their first ever real row.

Knowing, some of the history between Sydney and Arvin Sloane, and the complex and contradictory feelings she had for her own father, she had tried to be as tactful as she could when introducing the subject but, unfortunately, the facts didn't allow for much finesse.

_Why do you think your father beat up mine? she'd asked._

Sydney had shrugged. "I'm sure he had a reason."

"Yes but what?"

"I don't know. Look, its goanna take ages to go through all the stuff from Schirovsky's office and with you taking time off to visit your father, its goanna take even longer. I've gotta get back to work, OK?"

The implication that she was not pulling her weight by going to see her father had hit hard and she'd struggled to hold on to her temper. "If it were the other way round, you'd be doing exactly the same!"

"Yeah, well they're not, are they? So we'll never know! Nadia, face the facts! Sloane is a low-life; a lying, cheating sociopath. My Dad has a hundred and one reasons for wanting a bit of payback. Sloane has been asking for it for years."

"I know you have no cause to love my father but he's trying to change, he has changed and Jack has always seemed, well, less antagonistic towards him than almost everyone else in APO. Why should be suddenly attack him now?"

Sydney had given up the attempt to hold on to her temper then. "My Dad said he had his reasons and they'll be good ones. You don't know your father like I do. He's capable of anything. It wouldn't surprise me if Dad found out that Sloane had actually tortured and killed James Selzer. It's just the kind of thing he'd do!"

"Yeah, right, and your Dad is Albert Schweitzer!" She'd come back angrily, "So much for we're in this together! When I come back I'm moving to another hotel. If you need to speak to me, you can do it through my Dad's lawyer!"

"Fine!" Sydney had responded before stomping off.

I didn't handle that very well, she thought as she and her guard escort came to a halt before a heavy metal door. _When I get back, I'll apologise to Sydney. She is still my sister, after all._

Then she glanced through the glass partition into the Infirmary and saw her father's battered and bruised face. Suddenly, she wasn't at all sure she wanted to apologise.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Sydney flicked through the printouts from Schirovsky's computer but she wasn't really seeing what was on the paper. Her mind kept returning to her conversation with Nadia. She knew she had been wrong in trying to avoid the issue and in breaking, at least in spirit, her promise not to interfere in her sister's developing relationship with her Sloane. Analysing her feelings, she realised that she had been more than a little jealous that Nadia could see her father, while she could not see hers. She was also worried about her father and what this apparent violent break up with Sloane actually meant. She remembered her father's dedication and professionalism during the days they had both worked to bring down SD6 but also the rapport he appeared to have with Sloane, both then and now.

During the period they had both been double agents she had explained that away as a necessary deception but now she knew it had been real. _They were partners and friends for a long time. How would I feel if Dixon went rogue? I'd feel personally betrayed certainly but could I treat him just as an enemy?_ She knew she wouldn't be able to; there were too many good times, too many occasions when some action of his had saved her life to do that. _That's the way Dad looks at Sloane. Unlike me, he doesn't just see the man who betrayed his country, who slept with his wife, who killed his daughter's fiancé. He also sees a man he's been to hell and back with a hundred times or more! Given all that, what could Sloane have done that was so awful that Dad had to beat up on him?_

Despite what she'd said to Nadia, she didn't think it had anything to do with James Selzer. Much as she'd like to believe the best about her father, she'd read too many mission reports, attended too many debriefs to believe he abided by Supreme Court decisions on the treatment of suspects. Even if he'd discovered that Sloane had been solely responsible for Selzer's torture and death, it wouldn't have caused him to react that way. _The only thing I can think of that would make him do that is if he found out Sloane was deliberately trying to harm me, or perhaps Nadia!_

If that was the case Nadia shouldn't be alone and, even if it wasn't and it was only her distrust of Sloane talking, Nadia was still her sister. She had just decided to apologise to her and make up when Weiss' shout of triumph crashed through her thoughts.

"I got something, I got something!" He was on his feet, moving his body in a little dance. He turned to Vaughn and offered a high five. Vaughn took the paper from him, glanced at its contents, nodded with satisfaction and gave him the five.

"What is it?" Sydney asked.

Vaughn grinned and handed the paper to her. One word shot out of the page, "Novgorod 21".

Sydney put the pieces together. _The facility Nadia was held prisoner in as a child and fed Rambaldi fluid! And Rambaldi means Sloane! Dad must have found out somehow, I hope he beat him to a bloody pulp!_

Aloud she said, "It's Sloane. He's the one behind whoever's following us. All that crap about giving up Rambaldi for the love of his daughter was just a cover and the CIA bought it!

Inwardly she was wondering, how do I break this to Nadia, especially after how we broke up earlier?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sloane was lying in a semi prone position as jangling keys indicated the Infirmary door was being unlocked. He looked over and felt a thrill of pleasure as he saw his beautiful daughter enter the ward. He noticed the look of anger and worry on her face and felt guilty that he was putting her through so much anguish but also happiness that she so clearly cared enough about him to feel those emotions.

As she drew up a seat next to the bed, he wished he could put her mind at rest but the guard with her had taken a position that clearly stated he would be there for the duration. Sloane realised he couldn't even play down the seriousness of his injuries. The N.Y. Department of Corrections didn't believe in coddling criminals, a group that in their view included the untried, and operated on the basis that they would lie, cheat, do anything to obtain privileges and relaxations in the conditions of their incarceration. It had taken his best histrionic endeavours and ability to manipulate others to persuade a sceptical doctor and Infirmary Guard Lieutenant that he was still too weak to return to general population. If he gave even the slightest indication that he wasn't as bad as he'd made out, he'd be back in his cell as soon as the visit was over; or perhaps joining Jack in the Hole for malingering. He hoped that, one day; Nadia would understand and forgive him for putting her through this.

He tried to smile through his swollen lips, "Hello, sweetheart." he greeted her, making his voice low and unsteady.

"Dad..." Nadia stopped, clearly not knowing what to say next.

He brought his hand out from under the sheets and moved it slowly until it touched hers. "I'm fine." he said, in the tone of voice that indicated the exact opposite.

She squeezed his hand, then stopped fearful that she was hurting him further. "When I heard, I couldn't believe it." Her voice took on an edge of anger, "How could Jack do this to you? I thought he was your friend?"

It was the obvious question and one he'd been preparing for ever since he'd been told she was visiting him. The answer had to be believable to Nadia. He had devised one that not only met that condition but also provided an opportunity to help get Jack out of the Hole.

"I started reminiscing about your mother. I didn't realise the emotional pressure prison was placing on Jack. He took exception and hit out." Sloane manufactured a dry laugh, "Again and again."

He could see Nadia beginning to relax. A man beating up another for having an affair with his wife was something she could understand and accept, even if the one on the receiving end of the beating was her own father. He noticed that the guard was also listening carefully. The man would report this to his superiors and they would demand to know why talk of his daughter's mother would upset Jack. After they had brought a suitable amount of pressure to bear, Sloane would grudgingly give up the facts of his affair with "Laura Bristow". Somewhat embarrassing for Jack, but an old story; one even Captain O'Brien was likely to accept as a reasonable explanation for the assault. It would also help towards recovering his reputation with the rest of the prison population which was bound to have suffered as a result of the beating.

"Let's not talk about that anymore, sweetheart. How are you? What about Sydney? Tell me what have you been doing since you were last here."

Nadia took a deep breath and he listened quietly as she told him about her argument with Sydney, their TV and radio interviews, their shopping trips, the movies they had seen and the nightclubs they had visited. He felt more content than he had in a long time. Her talk of the normal and the mundane brought back happy memories of the good days with Emily. Then with a start he realised it was only a few days before Christmas and he would be spending them here in prison instead of with his daughter and his mood became darker.

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Jack shuffled into the secure interview room, the one set aside for lawyers to interview clients considered too violent or dangerous to be allowed open visits. Sitting across from him, separated by a thick Plexiglas screen imbedded with fine wire, was Thirly Wilson. He waited until the guard had released his handcuffs from the belly chain and carefully backed out of the booth, slamming the door behind him, then sat down on the fixed stool and picked up the phone. As he put it to his ear, he remembered how uncomfortable it was holding a phone while both hands were cuffed.

"Thirly." He acknowledged the other man.

"Hello Jack." his attorney replied. "The D.A has heard about your bust up with Sloane. He thinks you might be willing to consider a deal now and wants to meet with you."

"I think not." Jack's refusal was adamant.

Wilson nodded, "I thought that would be the case but I was under a professional duty to bring the offer to you. I'll tell Ms. Southerlyn you're not interested."

Jack noted the name and wondered how the plan to destabilise her was working. Perhaps a meeting would be useful after all. It would give him the opportunity to study her reactions and perhaps subtly increase the pressure.

Wilson was beginning to hang up and Jack rapped the glass screen with his phone. Wilson returned the phone to his ear.

"I've changed my mind." Jack said, "It won't do any harm to hear what they've got to say. Set it up."

Wilson gave him a questioning look but nodded his agreement.

"Thirly," Jack paused, "You know they've stopped my visiting privileges. Do you know …how is Sydney coping?"

Wilson smiled, "She's fine, worried about you obviously but two of her work colleagues have come from L.A. to be with her and her sister over the holidays. I know their presence has been a big relief to her. Even given their profession, it can't have been much fun for her and Nadia knowing you're being followed everywhere."

Jack tensed and Thirly realised too late that Sydney had not shared that information with her father.

"Have they reported this? What's being done about it?" Jack rapped out his questions machinegun like.

"They told the CIA. According to Director Healy they have a lead, a guy called Anatoly Schirovsky. Apparently he's the guy who hired the tails. It's being dealt with."

Jack felt the cold rush of fear run down his backbone as he heard the name.

"Thirly, get in touch with Sloane's lawyer immediately. Tell him what you've just told me and impress upon him that Arvin must be informed urgently. He must also let Arvin know I'll be joining him shortly and we need to bring forward the timetable. Understand?"

"No, not really. It's probably better I don't"

Jack gave him a glare as he stood up and banged on the door to alert the guard he was ready to leave.

When the C.O. arrived Jack allowed himself to be taken back to his cell in the SHU. Once the door slammed shut behind him, he sat on the concrete ledge and waited. It would take a few hours for Arvin to receive the message and make the necessary preparations. The best time to make his move was just before the evening meal was served. He would be certain to be discovered in time then. As he sat, he fingered the orange coverall all SHU inmates were issued. It was supposed to be tear resistant but it was possible if you were sufficiently motivated. The only problem was making it look like a serious attempt at suicide, requiring treatment in the Infirmary, without actually killing himself in the process.

T.B.C.

**Glossary**  
**C.O**. – Correctional Officer. Prison Guard.  
**SHU** – (Special Housing Unit.) Prison within a prison.  
**The Hole** – Slang term for Special Housing Unit.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The door to the hotel suite opened, then closed and Sydney tensed. She wasn't at all looking forward to what she had to do. How do you tell your sister that her father has simply been using her and might be planning something even worse? She had asked Vaughn and Weiss to leave so she and Nadia had privacy while she explained what they had discovered.

Nadia came into the room. She looked relaxed, the animosity from their argument gone. She gave her sister a slight smile, "Sydney, hi. About earlier; my Dad's explained what happened and I now understand why Jack hit him so I won't be moving out after all. I just want to say I'm sorry if I blew my stack before."

Sydney closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed that, once again, Sloane had produced some self serving explanation to justify what had happened. "Nadia, please sit down. There's something I need to tell you." she replied sadly.

Her sister gave her a confused look but did as requested. She listened carefully as Sydney laid out everything she, Vaughn and Weiss had found, paling a little at the memories of Novgorod 21.

"…so it's clear this is about Rambaldi. Given everything we know about your father, it seems likely he's behind all this." Sydney finished, trying to break the news as gently as she could.

Nadia remained silent, mulling over the information. When she spoke, her voice was steady. "Was there anything specifically linking him to Schirovsky or our tails?" she asked.

"Well no, but its Rambaldi…"

Nadia interrupted her sister. "Which proves nothing. My father's not the only one who is interested in that man. I was protected for years by followers of his and my Dad had no idea. And Rambaldi's not the only thing people can become obsessed by, Sydney. You for instance, you're obsessed by my father. Anything bad that happens where you can't immediately identify the perpetrators and you blame my Dad for it. He's changed. Why can't you accept that? He saved me from Sark and Lauren in Kyoto and I saw the madness leave him in Sienna. I don't believe he's behind this for a minute."

"So, why did my Dad beat up on him? Like you said, they've been close, especially recently."

"Jack was on edge and my Dad said something about our mother that set him off."

"How very convenient!" Sydney replied sarcastically.

"I believe him. Jack is wound so tight it makes sense that when he loses it, he'd lose it big time."

"Sloane lies so much if he said the world was round, I'd rush out to join the Flat Earth Society!"

"All you have to link him to this is a tenuous Rambaldi connection and your own prejudices. After hearing my father's explanation, I was prepared to start over. It seems like you're not. I don't see how we continue like this. I'm moving out right away!"

Nadia jumped up and strode to her room, banging the door closed behind her. Sydney could hear the sounds of drawers being violently slammed and things thrown on the bed. Sighing to herself she picked up the phone to call Vaughn and Weiss. Nadia needed to be protected from herself until she finally accepted the unpalatable truth about her father's duplicity.

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Serena completed the admin on the Herrera plea agreement and put the case file in the out tray with mixed feelings. He would spend fifteen years in prison, then, in all probability, be paroled. Hardly punishment enough for a man who'd beaten his nine year old daughter to death. On the other hand, the evidence against him had been weak and without the plea the chances were he'd walk out of court a free man to kill one of his other children. All told, this was the best result they could have gotten in the circumstances.

She turned to her in tray and leafed through its contents. The final mail delivery had taken place and one of the clerks had already opened most of it. Only one envelope remained. She looked at it and swallowed convulsively. It was marked "Confidential. To be opened by addressee only." She recognised the size, shape and block capital writing. They were all the same as the envelope that had been delivered to her home. She thanked God that her clerk was meticulous about not opening confidential documents. Her hands shook as she took her paperknife and slit open the seal. She extracted the contents to find more photographs of her and Jenny together. She went through them and was relieved to see that there were still none of a sexually explicit nature.

Even so, she realised this move for what it was, an escalation in the campaign of intimidation. First the photographs had been sent to her home, now her place of work. The unspoken threat of more being sent direct to Branch was clear. _These people are real pieces of work!_ she thought dully.

Her hands were still unsteady as she dialled the number for the Detective Bureau at the 29th Precinct. 

_"Detective Briscoe… Oh, hi Councillor."_ Lennie Briscoe's gravely tones came down the line.

"Lennie, that thing I asked you to look into. Have you made any progress?"

His response was not entirely what she wanted to hear, "_We've got a lead but it's going to take some time before we know if its goanna pan out."_

"Ok. Thanks. Err… please keep on it. It's important to me."

She put down the receiver before he had time to reply and, although it was still early for her, she shovelled the pictures into her briefcase, snapped it tightly closed, picked up her coat and walked out of the office, ignoring the 'Good night' calls of her co-workers.

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In the shabby surroundings of the 29th, Briscoe put down the receiver and looked over at his partner.

"How're doing Ed?" he asked. "Serena sounds really antsy."

Detective Ed Green glanced up from his computer screen. "I've accessed the N.Y. on line phone book and programmed in a search for any person or business containing the letters P.O.D. on E61st Street but it'll be a while before it kicks out an answer."

"Jeez, I thought computers were supposed to make these enquiries faster and easier!"

"Hey, think of it like this; how much time and effort would this have taken before the internet when we'd have had to go through the phone books by hand?"

"Yeah, well it had better not take too long," Briscoe grunted, "She sounds like she's reaching the end of her tether. I'd give a lot to know what the hell she's gotten herself into."

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Jack crouched down by the air vent at the bottom of his cell door. He had already torn a long strip from his jumpsuit and carefully twisted it into a narrow cord. He'd tied one end round his neck in a slip knot, passed it through one of the grilles in the air vent, carefully drawn it back inside the cell to tie off around his wrists.

The arrangement wasn't ideal but he'd spent some time carefully examining his cell for an alternative, only to come up empty handed. He spared a moments grudging admiration for Captain O'Brien's professionalism. No doubt he was also aware of the possibilities provided by the vent but, given the need to adequately ventilate the cells, hadn't been able to come up with another solution.

The air vent also served another useful purpose. The SHU cells were designed to hold inmates in solitary confinement. The doors were solid metal several inches thick and the walls concrete. Although two people on either side of the door could communicate through the observation window if the metal cover was removed, when it was in place, the prisoner was effectively cut off from the outside world. Except for the air vent. An inmate placing his ear close to that could make out the noise of the activities taking place in the corridor outside.

He heard the buzzer sound and the gate at the end of the corridor slowly rumbling open, closely followed by the rattle of the meal trolley and knew from experience that it would take several minutes before it reached his cell. Jack took a deep breath, this was going to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done. He wound the slack from his makeshift rope round his wrists and slowly allowed himself to fall backwards. His hands jammed against the vent, bringing his fall to a stop before his head hit the floor. The knot bit deep into his neck, preventing him from breathing. He fought down his natural instinct to save himself. Everything around him became fuzzy and indistinct as his brain reacted to the lack of oxygen. Then he lost consciousness.

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"Finished?"

The inmate orderly nodded towards the meal tray sitting on the over bed table in front of Sloane.

Sloane nodded graciously towards him; for all the world like he was being waited on in an up scale restaurant.

"Yes. Thank you."

The way the man picked up the tray and stomped off with it, however, forced Sloane to conclude that, even if he did want to go straight, this was not a career path to which he was suited. With a sigh, he poured some water into the plastic cup in front of him and took a sip. Satisfied that all his basic needs had been met, he picked up his spectacles and opened his book. But, before he had a chance to begin reading, the sound of a gurney being wheeled at speed over the linoleum flooring outside drew his attention to the observation window. He put down the book and watched as the gurney rattled past, accompanied by four guards. Keys jangled in the lock to the Infirmary door and then the gurney and its entourage burst into the room. The duty nurse sped over and began examining the new patient.

"Attempted suicide." A guard with Lieutenant's insignia tersely explained. "The guy was being held in the SHU for a disciplinary infraction. He tore a strip off his jumpsuit and tried to strangle himself on the air vent. We did CPR and got him breathing again."

The nurse looked at the man, "How did he come to hurt his head like that?" he asked.

"He was jammed against the door; we hit him when we were trying to force it open."

The nurse finished and looked up. "OK. Looks like you caught him in time. There doesn't seem to be any serious or lasting damage. The head injury looks worse than it actually is. I'll clean it up and keep him in overnight for observation. I'll leave a note for the M.O. He can look at him tomorrow and order a psychiatric assessment if necessary. Name and number of inmate?"

"Bristow." The Lieutenant replied. "Number 25674."

Sloane levered himself up from the bed slightly to confirm the new patient's identity and noted Jack's success at joining him in the Infirmary. The arrangements had been made and he was ready to move as soon as Jack was able. He watched, in satisfaction, as his former partner's still unconscious body was transferred to a bed at the far end of the ward but his pleasure was somewhat diminished at the Lieutenant's next words and actions. 

"This guy has an institutional record of violence so I'll be increasing the checks by the night guard. Also…" He stepped forward and handcuffed Jack's right wrist to the side rail. "...that should hold him when he comes round."

The Lieutenant was turning to leave when he halted and surveyed the rest of the patients, his eyes stopping at Sloane. He walked over and checked the medical chart. "You're the guy Bristow beat up on." It was a statement not a question. He held out his hand and one of the other guards passed him another pair of handcuffs. With a practiced movement he also shackled Sloane's right wrist to the side rail. "Just in case you were thinking of getting a little pay back while Bristow is out of it." he explained.

Sloane rattled the chain. "What happens when I need to go to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice rising in outrage.

The Lieutenant shrugged. "Ask for a bedpan." he suggested before leaving.

Sloane gave his shackle a long suffering look. _This is an inconvenience_ he thought, before reaching out with his left hand to pick up his discarded book. He opened it at the marked page and began reading. As he did so, he surreptitiously checked inside the spine. The piece of wire he'd fashioned into a picklock was nestling safely inside, held in place with a piece of chewing gum.

T.B.C.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Forty seven individuals and seven businesses containing the syllable POD in their names, it doesn't exactly narrow the field!" Ed Green complained as he continued checking them against police databases.

"We're looking for someone with a connection to Serena Southerlyn." His partner reminded him. "And, judging from the way she's acting, it ain't her first love or some long lost college classmate. Look for guys' she's prosecuted or someone unhappy with how a case turned out."

"If she's being threatened, why doesn't she just report it? She knows how seriously we take threats against D.A.'s and judges. We could be working on it 24/7, not just in our free time!"

"Yeah, I was wondering about that too!" Lennie Briscoe replied. "When we find the scumbag, we can ask him."

They worked in silence for a while until Briscoe spoke. "I think I got something! Melvin Zipodi, Apartment 4C, 244 E61 Street. Arrested in 2001 for criminal trespass and violation of a restraining order. He got two years probation and a fine of $2000."

Ed Green keyed in the name and studied the information. "But Hyatt was the ADA in that case!" he pointed out.

"Sure, but Zipodi described himself on the arrest report as a PI and look who his lawyer was, Jerry Shapiro. Now the attorney for Arvin Sloane! That's way too much of a coincidence."

Ed considered, "So you think this has something to do with the Selzer case. Could be; those Company guys play rough and dirty. But why work through some sleazy private investigator when you've got the entire CIA to call on?"

Bricoe looked at him. "Like I was saying earlier, let's go ask Zipodi." he said.

The two men shrugged on their jackets and overcoats and left the Detective Bureau.

"Mr Alvarez, you're a Chilean citizen, correct?

"Yes."

"You're also a communist, aren't you?"

"I am a socialist." The frail old man replied with quiet dignity. He sat on a hard chair in the corner of the motel room while Serena paced the floor between the door and the bed.

At the moment, this was the last place she wanted to be but on her way home, she'd remembered she'd arranged this prep session. She'd debated whether to cancel but decided against it. If she had, Jack McCoy would want to know why. The best thing she could do at the moment was to try to carry on as if nothing was wrong even as every nerve in her body was stretched tight with tension.

She continued pacing, "You came to this country in 1990. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What is your occupation?"

"I am currently unemployed."

"I see… Have you ever worked since coming here?"

"No. My state of health prevents me."

"Ah yes, your poor health; the result of your alleged torture by the Pinochet regime. At least according to you!" Serena sneered. "But you were fit enough to violently assault and stab a man only a few months ago were you not?"

She could see Alvarez struggling to control himself but he answered factually as she'd taught him, "Yes."

She continued to press, "So, let's see if I've got this right. You're a left wing agitator and convicted violent felon who has been living on state handouts ever since this country offered you asylum and protection!"

Alvarez lost control. He spat out a stream of Spanish at her, his voice rising as he became angrier. Serena couldn't understand most of what he was saying but recognised some of the words as casting aspersions on herself and her parents. She waited until his outburst was spent, then went over, sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

"I'm sorry, Mr Alvarez. Please believe me when I say I don't want to insult you but the defence will go after you hard. These are the sort of questions they'll be asking and you have to be prepared to handle them."

The elderly man closed his eyes and finally nodded. Serena saw he was exhausted and decided to call it a night. She once again reassured Alvarez, said her farewells and walked out of the room into the parking lot. She had just reached her car when her cell rang. She checked the caller ID and saw it was Jenny, then hesitated for a long moment. Finally, she hit the call receipt button and listened as Jenny's cheerful voice invited her over for a meal and a few glasses of wine. What she planned for after was unsaid but understood by them both.

Serena glanced towards the briefcase, lying on the back seat of her car. "Jenny…I'm sorry." she said slowly, "but I don't think I can make it. You know I've got this big case on at the moment…it's taking every waking moment I have. In fact, I'm sorry but I'll probably be too busy to see you until it's over."

She heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end, Jenny knew a brush off when she heard one. Serena ended the call, got into the driving seat of her car and collapsed sobbing over the wheel.

Weiss stood watching as Nadia unpacked in her new hotel room. She was an experienced traveller and went about the business quickly and efficiently, only the banging and slamming of drawers and closets displaying her emotional state. She stopped and checked her clothing.

"I left my purple peasant's blouse behind. It was being laundered."

"I'll pick it up for you tomorrow." Weiss promised.

Nadia nodded and continued her unpacking.

He tried to re-open the conversation about her moving out, hoping she wouldn't bite his head off like before, "Nadia, you're sure about this? Syd was only trying to look out for you."

Nadia had obviously calmed down somewhat because she now appeared willing to at least discuss the situation.

"Sydney is obsessed with my father. She accused him of being behind the people tailing us based on nothing but prejudice and assumptions. I know he has hurt her but I cannot stay with her if she keeps insulting him all the time."

Weiss sighed, he'd agreed to try and mend fences but Nadia was as stubborn as her sister. "Whoever is behind this, isn't it better for you both to stay together and watch each other's backs?" he suggested.

"I didn't want to leave but staying would have been disloyal to my father. If Sydney apologises I will return." Nadia announced, disappearing into the bathroom with her toiletries.

Weiss gave up, "OK, but I'm staying here tonight."

Nadia popped her head out of the bathroom, her temper seemingly considerably improved by his offer. She gave him an impish grin. "I thought you'd never ask." she said.

Weiss gave her a surprised look which rapidly turned to ecstasy. "You mean? Wow!" The look remained as he carefully checked the security of the windows and doors.

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Jack slowly returned to consciousness and reconnoitred his surroundings. _Good, I'm in the Infirmary!_ The lighting was subdued so he assumed it was late evening or even night time. There were four other patients, besides himself. All appeared to be sleeping. He recognised no-one except Sloane, who was in the occupied bed furthest from him, lying on his side with his head turned in Jack's direction. Although his eyes were closed, Jack didn't make he mistake of thinking he was actually asleep. The man he'd once known might have been buried by his obsession with Rambaldi but he remained a consummate professional. Jack fought down his feelings of loss. Sloane had been his closest friend and the best partner he'd ever had, their skills, abilities and personalities both overlapping and complementing each other. The months genuinely working together again at APO had been good, marred only by what he had done to Irina and his constant concern that Sloane was working to some hidden agenda.

He turned towards the nurse's station. It was staffed by a woman. Her desk lamp was on and she was busy writing. _Pretty girl_ he thought, _pity she's made herself look so severe. _He mentally checked his condition. His neck was sore but he was breathing easily enough. His head ached but he'd completed missions feeling a lot worse. The pain seemed concentrated in one particular area and he tried to bring up his hand to feel it. He glanced down and saw he was handcuffed to the bed. He experimented with the other hand and found that to be free. He gently felt the area where the pain was concentrated, it was covered by a dressing and he winced as the ache increased as his fingers probed it. _Strange, I don't remember hitting my head. I wonder how that happened?_

His activity had alerted the nurse who was now looking in his direction. _Time to confirm my return to the land of the living_ he thought.

"Water," he croaked, noting that the sound wasn't entirely put on. _Probably best if I don't speak unless I have to for a while!_ "Water!" he called again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sloane's eyes open for an instant and look over at him, before they closed and he, once again, appeared asleep.

The nurse came over and raised his bed until he was in a semi-prone position. She poured some water into a plastic cup and held it to his lips. He sipped, grateful for the cool liquid which soothed his parched throat. She was silent as she performed the task but whether this was because she didn't want to disturb the other patients or wanted to keep her distance from a suicidal inmate, he couldn't tell. As he drank, his memory returned fully and he remembered why he was there and the urgency of what he and Arvin had to do. The fact that he was chained to the bed was a complication but Arvin would be aware of it and he trusted him to have worked out a solution.

"Thank you." He said to the nurse, his voice sounding more normal now.

She nodded and finally spoke, "OK." she whispered. "I'll leave the water within reach but try to get some proper rest now and don't wake the other patients."

Jack nodded his understanding and settled back as she returned to her station. Once she was settled, he turned his head and looked over at Sloane. His eyes were open, again and they exchanged a long look of mutual understanding.

Vaughn woke to find Sydney standing by the window staring out at the Manhattan skyline. He looked at the clock, "Syd, it's nearly one-thirty. Come back to bed!"

She turned towards him, "Vaughn, do you think I did the right thing?"

"I think you meant well." he answered cautiously.

"What does that mean?" she asked, harshly.

Vaughn considered his response; Sydney respected honestly, "I think it's premature to link Sloane to this. The reference to Novgorod 21 strongly indicates a Rambaldi connection but it points towards the Russians, not Sloane. The fact that Schirovsky was originally a Russian national tends to strengthen the case."

"My mother's dead, Aunt Katya's in jail and you took Doctor Lee out of the picture. Who else is there?"

"It was a big facility, Syd." Vaughn reminded her gently, "There were probably hundreds of people working there when it was at it's height, anyone of which could be behind this."

Sydney hesitated, "I hope you're right. It's just that I don't want to see Nadia hurt and with Sloane, it's like a ticking time bomb. Every moment I'm waiting for him to explode and for Nadia to get caught up in the blast."

Vaughn got up and took Sydney in his arms, "I know, I know." he comforted her.

She enjoyed his embrace for a moment, then pulled away slightly, "Maybe tomorrow we should ask Dixon and Marshall to make some enquiries about the current whereabouts and activities of the other senior and middle ranking personnel assigned at Novgorod 21?" she suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea!" He didn't tell her he'd already called and asked them to do just that as he led her back to the bed.

Sloane glanced at Jack through half closed eyelids. His friend and former partner was lying, apparently relaxed, in his bed but Sloane knew he would be ready to move when the time came. Jack was the only man in the game he respected as his equal. That was why theirs had been such a successful partnership and the reason his friendship with the man had survived the betrayal of his being a double agent within SD6. He turned his head to check the clock. Hopefully, it wouldn't be long now. Both the nurse and the guard from the previous night were on duty again. Judging from their behaviour, their rendezvous was a regular occurrence.

Sure enough, only a few moments later the muffled sound of a key being gently inserted in the lock could be heard, followed by the door being quietly pushed open. Sloane waited as the two lovers exchanged a preliminary embrace before disappearing into the supply room. Satisfied they would be otherwise engaged for at least twenty minutes, he reached out, extracted the picklock from its hiding place and deployed it in the handcuff lock. It opened with a gentle click after only a few seconds and he quietly swung himself up and off the bed. Jack was fully alert now, watching and waiting to be released and for their escape to begin. Sloane grinned broadly at him as he silently walked towards his bed.

T.B.C.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Briscoe rapped on the door to Apartment 4C.

While they waited, Green looked round, "Nice building. Zipodi seems to be doing well for himself. I'd have thought PI's would be having a harder time of it these days with no fault divorces."

"There's always people wanting dirt on other people." Briscoe replied cynically, "Besides, there's no such thing as a no fault divorce, take it from me. I've had two and they were both bad. If you're not arguing about money, it's custody of the kids or the goldfish. Business is still booming for these sleazebags."

They heard footsteps approach the door and it opened slightly. A man peered out.

"Yes?" he asked.

Briscoe flipped his badge at the man. "Police." he said. "Detectives Briscoe and Green, 27th Precinct. Melvin Zipodi?" The man nodded, "Can we come in please?"

"Why?" Zipodi asked. "Look guys, I always want to co-operate with law enforcement but it's a bit inconvenient at the moment."

As if to prove this, the detectives heard a female voice calling from inside the apartment.

Ed Green took up the conversation, "Your name came up in an investigation. We just want you to explain the circumstances. We can do it at the precinct if you like but, if you've got nothing to hide, why bother? By the time you get back your lady friend will probably have lost the mood. On the other hand, if you talk to us now, we can finish up in a few minutes and you can go back to what you were doing before we interrupted you."

Zipodi hesitated, then opened the door wider. "Come in." he invited. "Like I said, I always like to help the police."

The two detectives stood in the living room and waited until Zipodi had closed the bedroom door after having a brief conversation with its occupant.

"OK, now, what's all this about?"

"A.D.A.Serena Southerlyn. What's your connection with her?" Briscoe rapped out.

Zipodi appeared puzzled. "I don't think I know her. Why do you think I do?"

"Your name was on an envelope she received." Green said.

Zipodi shrugged, "I find that hard to believe as I've never even heard of her before, much less written to her."

"Don't try that one on us, buster." Briscoe almost snarled, trying for a reaction. "You leant on the envelope to write something else and pressed so hard your name and address were impressed on it. Our forensics people brought them up."

Zipodi didn't rise to the bait. He smiled, "Look guys, I receive mail like everyone else. I bet someone wrote to me and then to this A.D.A. That would explain how my name got on the envelope. I'm sorry but I can't see how I can help you. I can't be expected to know who else my correspondents write to!"

This was true and was something both detectives had considered earlier. On the surface Zipodi's manner appeared untroubled and co-operative but both men were aware of an undercurrent of tension in his attitude and they had a gut instinct that he wasn't being honest with them. The fact that he hadn't asked why they were so interested in his correspondence also indicated that he knew more than he was saying. Green prowled the room and stopped by the writing desk. He held up an envelope.

"This is the same make of envelope as the one sent to Ms Southerlyn. Are you still going to deny sending her the letter?"

Zipodi glanced at the object, "You can buy envelopes like that anywhere in the city. If you checked out all the other apartments in this building you'd find at least half have the same type of envelopes." he said shortly.

Briscoe changed the subject, "What's your relationship with Jerry Shapiro?" he asked.

This time, Zipodi's response was guarded. "He's an attorney. I work for him sometimes. Obviously I can't go into details. I have a duty of confidentiality to my clients."

"Yeah," Briscoe sneered, "And he works for you! He was your lawyer when you were prosecuted a few years back, right?"

"Last time I checked I had the right to a lawyer, like everyone else charged with a crime. Or is that something else that changed under the Patriot Act?" Zipodi snapped back, beginning to lose his temper. "Look, I'm trying to help you out here and all I'm hearing is insinuations. If you think you've got something, arrest me. If not, I want you to leave. Make an appointment through Mr. Shapiro if you want to speak to me again and we'll come down to the precinct."

Briscoe and Green stood looking at him. They didn't move. Zipodi's voice rose, "If you don't leave immediately; I'll have Shapiro slap a civil suit on you so big, it'll bankrupt the city and leave you with nothing but your skivvies!"

Briscoe and Green reluctantly turned to leave.

"Don't get too comfortable Zipodi," Briscoe warned as the door closed on him. "It's not over yet!"

As they walked out of the apartment block, Ed Green noted, "We shook his tree, real good!"

Briscoe nodded, "Now lets see where the acorns fall." he replied.

The two men got into their car and waited. Shortly after, Zipodi and a woman left the block. They observed Zipodi press a fistful of bills into her hands and watch her walk off. When she turned the corner, he turned and began striding in the opposite direction.

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Sloane inserted the pick into the lock on Jack's handcuffs. After a deft twist of his wrist, they clicked open and Jack eased himself off the bed. He glanced towards the other patients, then towards the store room, raising a questioning eyebrow in his former friend's direction. Sloane gestured for him to watch the inmates while he dealt with the nurse and guard. Jack felt a twinge of concern. He knew that Arvin's methods of dealing with potential problems were often lethal. Nevertheless he nodded his understanding but compromised, moving to a position where he could keep an eye on their fellow prisoners and watch Sloane at the same time. Sloane grinned at him, fully understanding his intensions and suspicions, then moved, catlike, to the door, gently opening it and slipping through.

Jack caught a glimpse of the guard and nurse entwined in a tight embrace. Sloane moved towards them with the swift grace of a predator. Jack waited to see what would happen next when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the patients moving. He watched as the man's eyes opened and he began to raise himself off the bed on one elbow. The man saw him and opened his mouth. Before the movement was finished, Jack was on the move. It didn't occur to him, until later, how similar his movements and reactions were to Sloane's. He reached the man's bed and grasped him by the throat, firmly pressing down until he became unconscious. Simultaneously, he heard a noise from the store room; it cut off abruptly to be followed by absolute silence.

Jack checked his victims pulse and was relieved to feel it strong under his fingers. The last thing they needed now was to face more murder charges. He hoped that Sloane had remembered that as well! He checked to see that none of the other patients had been disturbed and, after satisfying himself on that score, he wondered about their next move. How were they to ensure nobody else would wake and raise the alarm before they'd successfully escaped? Honour among thieves was a myth; anyone of these men would give up their own mothers for a deal from the D.A. or a reduction in their sentence.

He started towards the store room and took in the scene. He was relieved to see the guard inside unconscious but still breathing. The state of the room indicated that he'd put up a brief fight but been hampered by his pants, concertinaed as they were around his ankles. A satisfied looking Sloane was holding the scared looking nurse firmly by both arms.

He was staring hard into her eyes, speaking softly to her. "Nurse Silorski, please give me the keys to the drugs cabinet. Believe me, it will be better for everyone if you co-operate. Or do you want me to render you unconscious and conduct a search of your body for them then?" His manner and tone carried implications that his words did not and the nurse almost collapsed in fear. She dived into her pockets and brought out the keys, handing them to Sloane with trembling hands.

Sloane glanced towards Jack who nodded to confirm everything was under control in the ward. Sloane then turned towards the drugs cabinet. It was a heavy, strongly made piece of furniture, with a high quality lock. _Hardly surprising for a prison_ Jack thought, seeing why Sloane needed the keys. His makeshift picklock would have useless for opening it.

Once the cabinet was open Sloane surveyed the neatly stacked piles of drugs and other medical supplies. He turned to the nurse and spoke soothingly to her. "Don't be afraid, my dear. We won't hurt you if you do as we say. I want you to sedate the other patients." He picked up a handful of disposable syringes and held them out to her. "It was sensible of you to give me your keys. Not only have you saved yourself from unpleasantness, you've also ensured that we won't accidentally harm these people by giving them the wrong doses."

The nurse stared at him, wide eyed with fear. Finally, she nodded and took some vials from one of the shelves. The two men watched as she prepared the injections and placed them on a tray. Once she was done, Sloane picked it up and, still holding the nurse firmly by one arm, guided her into the ward. She moved from patient to patient, administering the drug.

At one, she paused and seemed to draw her courage together. "This man's already sedated. I daren't give him any more. It would kill him." she said.

Jack watched as Sloane considered.

The nurse went on, pleadingly. "You've been here for over a day now. Have you ever seen him conscious?" she asked.

Sloane finally nodded and gestured for her to set the syringes and drugs down and step back towards him. "You've done well so far, my dear." he complemented her. "Now, just one more thing before we leave." He guided her back towards the store room, followed by Jack.

Sloane took out a syringe and another vial from the drugs cabinet and handed them to the nurse. "Please put your err...friend to sleep as well." It was phrased as a request but everyone recognised it as an order. Once this had been done, Sloane stepped forward and carefully manoeuvred the man's pants back up, zipping and buttoning them around his waist.

"No need for either of your reputations to be damaged as a result of this." He commented to the nurse.

Jack noted the nurse relaxing and realised that, even facing with what she believed might be assault or death, she'd been embarrassed and worried by the thought that people would find out she'd been having sex with a co-worker.

Sloane was continuing to speak to the nurse. "I'm going to give you an injection to put you out as well." His words were softly, even gently spoken. "It will be less unpleasant for you if you don't struggle. I've already promised we don't want to permanently harm anyone and, hopefully, we've demonstrated this already. Are you prepared to let me do this?"

The nurse gulped convulsively but nodded and let him inject the sedative. They watched as her eyes closed and Jack caught her as she slowly collapsed. Sloane surveyed the scene and nodded quickly in satisfaction.

"Jack, place her in my bed and pull the covers up to conceal her. I'll put this guy in your bed. If anyone passes by and looks in casually, they'll assume that we're accounted for and Ms Silorski is busy counting bedpans or something."

"Surveillance?" Jack snapped the question out. "There are camera's out there. I'm surprised the alarm hasn't sounded already."

Sloane grinned, "I hardly think this lady's and gentleman's rendezvous form part of their job description and I'm sure they don't want the jail authorities to find out about it. The CCTV cameras are either dummies set up as a deterrent or no-one's watching the feed."

After depositing the unconscious bodies of the nurse and guard in their beds, Sloane and Jack quickly changed out of their hospital gowns into scrubs they found in the store room. Then, Sloane tossed the guard's keys, which he'd retrieved before placing him in Jack's bed, once in the air and they walked to the Infirmary door and let themselves out.

They studied the corridor. The Infirmary was on the ground floor of a block given over to support services. Although the only prisoners held there were patients locked in the secure ward, gates were set at regular intervals along it. The good news was that no CCTV cameras had been placed there. Nevertheless, the moved cautiously, carefully edging their way along the wall to the Education Department. Once they reached the door, Sloane carefully selected another key from the guard's chain and soon the two of them were standing inside.

They looked around, no laptops had been left out but a search of the cupboards soon found them. Sloane selected one, checked its battery and closed it with a snap. "Now we need to find a junction box." he observed. "I suggest the basement."

Jack nodded agreement and they left the room, carefully locking up behind them. They made for the stairs. The barred gates along the corridor all yielding to the guard's keys. They had almost reached the final barrier and the basement steps were in sight when they froze at the sound of approaching footsteps and two men engaged in casual conversation.

T.B.C.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The detectives watched as Zipodi turned the corner of the block.

"He's off and running!" Ed Green commented as he turned the ignition key and the car glided out onto the street.

Lennie Briscoe grunted. "Let's see where he's going first." he replied. "It's Christmas Eve. For all we know he's going out to celebrate with a couple of cold ones."

"No way!" Green argued, "His evening's entertainment was already in the apartment when we visited him earlier and he paid her off."

"So maybe we caused him to lose the mood and he's going to drown his sorrows. Worked for me when I was drinking… He's going down into the subway!"

Green pulled the car into the nearest parking space and the two detectives got out and waded through the slush, dodging the traffic as they crossed the road, then down into the subway. They flashed their badges at the barrier and split up to check the platforms.

Briscoe glanced up and down. There were plenty of people waiting on the platform but it was not crowded and he had a good view of everyone there. Zipodi was not among them. He re-traced his steps, heading towards the other platform and met his partner coming in the opposite direction. They stared at each other for a moment before the truth registered. "Damn it! He's doubled back!"

The two of them hit the up escalator, taking the stairs two at a time. They left the subway just in time to see Zipodi get into a cab and drive off. It was no use trying to follow. By the time they got to their own car and turned round Zipodi could have gone anywhere.

"Yellow cab." Green murmured. He glanced at his watch, 10:13. "Did you get the registration?" he asked his partner.

"In this light?" Briscoe replied sarcastically.

"Do you think he was on to us?"

Briscoe shrugged. "I doubt it, or he wouldn't have gotten a cab straight away. Give it an hour and we'll contact the company and get a copy of the trip sheet from the hack."

"Great. In the meantime, let's get out of the cold and have a cup of coffee." said Green.

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The two guards were getting closer and Jack and Sloane could now clearly hear their conversation.

"When I was a kid, I was grateful for whatever my parents bought me, and if I wasn't, my Dad clipped me round the ear till I was!" one was complaining.

"Tell me about it!" the other replied. "Last Christmas, Marge spent days tracking down this thing our granddaughter claimed she absolutely had to have. When she finally found it, it was the last one in the shop and she almost came to blows with someone else over it. Then on Christmas Day, Michelle turned her nose up because it was the wrong colour!"

The two veteran agents quickly reviewed their options. There were locked offices on both sides of the corridor but the C.O.'s would be on them before they'd found the right key to unlock any of them, if indeed, it was on the key chain they had to begin with. The locks themselves were too sturdy for the makeshift picklock they had. Their only option was to bluff their way through and be prepared to use force if that failed.

Sloane quickly unlocked the barred gate. He made no effort to hide the sound of the keys jangling and turning in the lock. He and Jack were through as the guards came into sight. Sloane, whose battered face would have led to questions had it been seen, had already turned his back to them as he locked it after them. Jack stood in profile, presenting the un-injured side of his face and head to the guards.

"Hi." he called. "Happy Holiday!"

The two men stopped. Jack noted they were both mature men. He recognised neither of them, which was good as, hopefully, they wouldn't recognise him or Arvin either. They were, however, looking at both of them suspiciously. He decided to take the initiative. "Haven't seen you guys around before." he commented.

The C.O.'s relaxed a little but remained alert.

"We've been temporarily re-assigned from the medium security facility to cover for holiday leave." one explained. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Doctor Lewis and this is Doctor Cohen." He indicated Sloane who still had his back to them.

"Hi." Sloane said, then he dived into the pockets of his scrubs and swore. "Damn it! I left my notes in the ward!" He started to re-open the locked gate, his manner displaying his irritation.

"It's late for Doctors to still be in the facility," the other guard commented. "especially on Christmas Eve."

"Tell me about it!" Jack replied. "I had just poured myself a Jack Daniels when the call came in. One of the inmates tried to commit suicide and needed urgent medical attention. Selfish bastard!"

The guards chuckled. "They wouldn't be here if they had any consideration for other people." one pointed out. "All OK now Doc? Anything we need to know?"

Jack shrugged, "He's stabilised and sedated. Aaron doesn't celebrate Christmas so he'll be checking on his condition tomorrow. The nurse can deal with it till then. In the meantime, we're going to have a shower, change into our street clothes and get out of here." He hefted the laptop; Sloane had passed to him while he unlocked the gate. "That is once Aaron's got his notes back so he can transcribe them on to this."

"Sounds like a plan to me Doc. You OK there Doctor Cohen?"

"Fine." replied Sloane who had finally succeeded in unlocking the gate. "More haste, less speed!"

The guards appeared to be satisfied. "Well, we won't keep you any longer. Wish we could go home and put our feet up too! Merry Christmas Doctor Lewis and Happy Hanukkah, Doctor Cohen."

With a friendly nod the two guards turned away and went up the stairs to the second floor. Jack and Sloane stood still and listened until the sound of the guards' footsteps and voices had disappeared, then looked at each other in relief. Sloane's face lit up in a grin before he turned and quietly re-locked the gate. Still grinning, he led the way to the stairs leading to the basement and they descended. At the foot of the stairs was a locked door. A quick glance told them that the key was not among the collection they had but the lock was old. Sloane sighed and looked at his picklock. It would do the job but would probably be ruined in the process.

_That's the problem with these rush missions, _he mourned, _not enough time or intel to plan properly._

He finally succeeded in opening the door and they entered the basement. It was a large room, the dust and dilapidation showing it was not regularly used, large pipes ran along both walls. Both men, however, ignored the state of the room as they searched. Finally they found the junction box. It was locked but Jack found a discarded piece of metal which he used to force it open. He and Sloane ran practised eyes over its contents.

Sloane's lips curled in contempt. "What a lash up!" he commented. "This is what happens when you put security work out to the lowest tender. Whoever installed the DefGuard system just attached it to the electricity supply through a single adapter."

"Which is good news for us." Jack pointed out.

Sloane nodded his agreement as he opened the laptop and attached it to a port on the DefGuard system. Jack moved to hold the computer allowing Sloane to type with both hands. He watched as the screen filled with lines and lines of computer code.

"I'm hacking through the security system. It'll take me a few minutes. Once I'm in, the rest is easy." Sloane explained as he typed. "OK. I'm through their firewall now and beginning to re-programme the system.

Finally, he stopped and snapped the lid of the laptop down with a satisfied smirk on his face. "It's done." He glanced at his watch. "We go out by the visitor's gate. I've programmed all the doors between there and here to open at five minute intervals. What I couldn't do is hide the fact they're unlocked from the Centre so, in seven minutes, every electronically operated door and gate in this facility will go haywire; locking and unlocking at random. Not only will that disguise the activities of those particular doors, we should be able to use the ensuing chaos to get through and catch our ride out of here. It's Christmas Eve so I'm guessing they'll only have a skeleton staff on and they'll reduce the numbers guarding the perimeter in order to try to control the inmates in the cell blocks."

"What about the CCTV and the outer fence?" Jack asked. "It's carrying a lethal voltage."

Sloane gave him an injured look. "The feed from the security cameras will be affected by the same random interruptions to the electricity flow that will be affecting the locks. As for the fence, I'm relying on the Authorities to assist us there. The only way they can regain control of the DefGuard system is by totally shutting it down and re-booting it. As it's linked to the electricity system, they'll have to turn that off too and use the emergency generator. That only has enough power to maintain lighting and essential systems. I calculate it'll take at least ten minutes for the system to re-boot. The only question is how long it will be before someone realises this. I suggest we get there a quickly as we can."

Jack nodded and led the way out. After a few minutes, the clanking and clashing of metal against metal and the sounds of cries of surprise, excitement and fear filled the air. He and Sloane kept to an indirect route to minimise contact with prison staff as they made their way towards the Visitor's Gate, the metal barred barriers before them opening as if by magic.

Captain O'Brien glanced at his watch. Nearly 10:30 it was time to be thinking about going home. Not that the thought gave him a lot of pleasure. Since his wife had died three years ago, the simple apartment they had bought and lived in together seemed empty and uninviting. He was due to spend Christmas Day with his son and daughter-in-law, however, and simple courtesy demanded he be awake and alert enough to be good company for them. He started to put his work away when he became aware of odd sounds from the cell blocks. He was about to go over to the window to investigate when the phone rang.

"Captain O'Brien." As he listened to the excited voice on the other end, he began to frown. It looked like his Christmas was about to be spoiled. "OK, OK, we need to maintain control of the cell blocks. Whatever happens, the inmates mustn't be allowed to get out. Pull everyone you can spare from the perimeter and assign them to that. I'm going to the Control Centre to find out what the hell has gone wrong with the system." He jammed his cap on his head and strode out the door.

When he finally reached the Centre he found it in a state of panic. The three officers on duty were feverishly consulting manuals and typing in commands that were ignored.

"What in the name of the saints is going on?" he roared.

"I don't know sir." a youngish officer replied, "One moment everything was fine, then it just went mad. We've tried everything but nothing works."

The phone rang and one of the other officers answered, she listened then turned to O'Brien. "That was Stevens from Cellblock C. He reports they've got a riot there."

O'Brien closed his eyes for a moment. _This is what happens when they rely on technology_ he thought. "Contact the engineers who installed the system, then get hold of the Warden." he ordered.

"Sir," one of the C.O's said shyly, "We could re-boot the system. That should restore everything to normal. It'd take about ten minutes during which we'd have to go to the backup generator for power."

O'Brien considered. All security systems would be down for that period but it wasn't as if they were any use currently. "Warn our people, then do it." he ordered. He watched as the officers obeyed. "Where did all this start?" he asked.

"The systems closest to the Support Services block were affected first Sir. I'm guessing the problem originated there." the officer who'd suggested the re-boot replied.

O'Brien suddenly felt cold. He picked up the phone and called the Infirmary but got no response, slamming it back into place he raced out of the Centre.

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Jack and Sloane crouched by the outer fence. As expected, the lights of the prison had gone out, then come back on much dimmer than before, allowing them to cross the normally brightly lit open space between the prison buildings and the fence without being seen. The thud, thud of a motor boat's engines came across the water heading towards them and then stopped. The sound of a small boat being lowered into the water followed, then splashing as someone pulled on the oars. A hoarse voice called in a loud whisper. "Domino"

"Backgammon." Sloane responded.

They heard the sigh of relief. "Thank God!"

A rowing boat appeared from the gloom being steered by a single man. He tied the boat to a root jutting out from the bank and climbed on to the shore, pulling out a pair of wire cutters. Without further conversation he attacked the fence and pulled it open, allowing Jack and Sloane to crawl through.

Jack looked around. "I suggest we get out of here fast." he said.

"You won't hear any complaint from me!" the stranger replied as he watched his passengers get into the boat.

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Green looked around. "So, why's our boy taking a river trip this late?" he asked.

"Seeing the sights from the water?" His partner suggested.

The cab driver had told them he'd dropped Zipodi at a marina on the Lower East Side. They'd followed him there and discovered he'd hired a small motor boat and taken it out for a cruise. Now they sat in the warmth of the car, waiting for him to return.

T.B.C.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Captain O'Brien glanced through the window into the Infirmary. It had taken several hours, additional correctional officers had had to be deployed from other facilities on the Island or recalled to duty but the situation had been brought back under control. The unconscious guard and nurse had already been moved to a civilian hospital and the prison doctor and several nurses were busy checking the vitals of the remaining inmate patients. He turned back to the two frightened and embarrassed men before him. He had already vented his anger at them so his question came out in a tone of exaggerated patience.

"…and you didn't think to ask them for identification?"

"They didn't look or act suspicious, sir." one replied defensively. "They had keys and their story was believable. In fact, they seemed like regular guys, anxious to get back home but still ready to shoot the breeze for a while."

He sighed, he really couldn't blame the officers, they were usually posted to minimum or medium security facilities and they had faced men who were highly trained and experienced in infiltration techniques. Nevertheless, they had failed to follow procedures. "Alright, you're both suspended pending a disciplinary hearing; starting now. Get out of my sight!"

The two officers departed quickly, no doubt relieved at being spared a further tongue lashing as O'Brien stomped down the corridor into the basement. The hole in the fence had been discovered and a search of the jail had confirmed what his gut had already told him. Bristow and Sloane had successfully escaped. The good news, if you wanted to look at that way, was a count had shown that all the other prisoners were accounted for.

As he entered the basement a young C.O. glanced across and gestured towards a laptop hanging down by a single lead from inside a junction box. "Sir, they stole this from the Education Department and used it to access the security system from here. I'm guessing they somehow breached the firewall and programmed the doors to open and close at random, then used the resulting chaos to cover their escape."

"So, they're also responsible for the near riot in C Block!" O'Brien noted, then muttered to himself, "When those sons of bitches are recaptured, I am going to make it my personal objective to make their lives hell. By the time I'm finished, they'll wish they'd never been born!"

In his heart, however, he knew the chances of finding them were minimal at best. They were trained agents with the contacts and resources to flee the country any time they wanted. And, even if by some miracle they were caught, these men had been trained to withstand torture and, if the scars on their bodies were anything to go by, had done so on several occasions. Nothing he could do to them would be anything like as bad. Nevertheless, contemplating the punishments he intended to mete out made him feel better.

"Have the police had any success in tracing them yet?" the C.O. asked. "Most escapees make right for their old neighbourhood and their family."

O'Brien shook his head. "They're checking out their daughters now but I doubt if they'll have contacted them. These are not most escapers!"

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They heard the sound of its engines first but slowly the returning motor boat came into view of the lighted marina. Detective Ed Greene looked at his watch. "It's about time. Zipodi's been out there for hours." he noted.

"Hey, it's only 12.48 on Christmas Eve, the night is still young!" his partner replied.

"Technically, doesn't that make it Christmas Day?" Greene asked.

Lennie Briscoe was about to reply when his attention was drawn to the police radio that had been quietly playing in the background. He turned up the sound.

"_Attention all units, attention all units. This is an APB for fugitives, Jonathan Bristow and Arvin Sloane who escaped from Riker's Island Maximum Security facility sometime between 22.30 and 00.30 tonight. Both men are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous and officers should seek back up before approaching. Descriptions of fugitives are as follows …"_

Briscoe muted the radio and turned to his partner. It was clear from Green's expression they were both thinking the same thing.

"Zipodi hires a boat and takes a river cruise the same night our friends from Langley go on the lam." he mused.

"And all he has to do to be in the general vicinity of the prison is chug upstream a ways." Briscoe confirmed.

They reached an unspoken decision. Briscoe leaned forward and hit the radio transmit button. "Despatch, this is Detective Car 186 with Briscoe and Greene from the 29th Precinct. We may have a lead on the fugitives. We are at the Golden Seas Marina on the Lower East Side and are about to approach suspect, Melvin Zipodi, who we believe may have information on their whereabouts. Stand by to send back up on request."

"Acknowledged, DC-186." The dispatcher responded.

"Maybe we should have asked for back up straight away." Greene grumbled.

"And look like chumps if we're wrong? We know he went out alone. Let's wait and see how many people get off."

They watched as the boat came alongside the pier and Zipodi jumped off, tied it up and began to walk off.

"It looks like he's still alone." Greene observed.

"Yeah, let's go and see if our upstanding citizen enjoyed his moonlight cruise."

The two detectives got out of their car and approached their quarry.

"Hi Melvin, remember us?" Briscoe asked brightly.

Zipodi turned towards them. "Yeah, I remember you. This looks like harassment to me. You'll be hearing from my attorney about this. What do you want now?"

"Speaking about your lawyer, Melvin, we've just heard some news about another one of his clients, Arvin Sloane, know him? Appears he unexpectedly checked out of Riker's this evening and his former hosts want to know why he rejected their hospitality. Know anything about that?" Greene took up the story.

"No. Why should I?"

"It's cold out here. Why don't we discuss it in more detail in a nice warm room at the Precinct?" Briscoe invited the man.

Zipodi hesitated but it was cold and snow was beginning to fall again. "OK but I want my lawyer to be present."

"You can call him from the station." Greene said as he and Briscoe escorted Zipodi towards their waiting car.

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The Christmas Eve party was in full swing but Sydney surveyed the scene with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Nadia and Weiss were at the party too but, while Eric had come over and spoken to her briefly, her sister had ignored her totally. Across the room she could see the two of them dancing with every appearance of enjoyment and that darkened her mood even more. _She's my sister. Why isn't she as affected by our estrangement as I am? s_he wondered.

From his position at her side, Vaughn sensed her depression and loneliness. APO was still checking on the whereabouts of the other staffers at the Novgorod 21 project but so far had failed to identify anyone with the resources to have Sydney and Nadia tailed and, without clear evidence that she was wrong in accusing Sloane, Sydney was unwilling to take the first step in healing the breach between them by apologising to her sister.

He touched her gently on the shoulder. "It's OK, sweetheart. It'll work out and I'll be here for you until it does." He glanced over at his best friend and, if everything worked out, future sister-in-law. "Nadia feels it too. She doesn't like this thing between you any more than you do. Trust me."

"Yeah, well it doesn't look it from here!" Sydney replied sarcastically. "Or do you have intel from Weiss you've been keeping from me?"

Vaughn understood her pain and frustration and remained calm and gentle. "No, Eric hasn't said anything to me but I know your sister well enough now to know all that is for show. Inside she's hurting as much as you are but she thinks she's right so she's too proud to let you know it." He grinned, "You're very much alike in that. Well, at least I finally know where you got it from. It's clearly your mother's side!"

Sydney began to smile, almost against her will, at his banter. "I don't know about that. Neither my Dad or Sloane are exactly members of the Heart on Sleeve Club!" She shook her head. "Vaughn, I'm sorry but I'm not in the mood for partying. Would you mind if we went back to our suite?"

"Your wish is my command!" He offered her his arm and they walked out into the foyer of the hotel. Across the reception area they could see a man and a woman talking to the night receptionist. Although they were not in uniform, their dress and manner screamed out 'police' to the experienced agents. The deskman saw them and pointed them out to the detectives while Sydney and Vaughn stood and waited for their approach. Sydney felt herself beginning to panic. She was sure they were here about her father. _What's happened now? Is he alright?_ She fought down the rising tide; _I'm a trained agent_ she told herself fiercely, _I'm not going to give in to my emotions!_

"Ms Bristow?" the female officer asked, her face grave.

Sydney nodded. "Yes. What is it? Has something happened to my father?"

"Why do you ask that?" the male detective asked brusquely, "Do you have any reason to think something might have happened to him?"

The woman gave her colleague a warning glance. "Ms. Bristow, I'm Detective Mears and this is Detective Kowalski. We'd like you to come down to the precinct and answer some questions for us. We also have a warrant to search your hotel suite and obtain a printout of your telephone calls. Please come with us."

"Why do you need to bother her on Christmas Eve?" asked Vaughn, "And why can't you ask your questions here?"

Kowalski glared at him in contempt, taking in his slim frame and college boy looks. "This is a high class hotel. We can discuss it here and embarrass the hell out of your girlfriend in front of all these fine people or we can do it nice and quietly down at the station. It's her call."

"Tell me what it's about first." Sydney demanded.

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"Has she gone?" Nadia whispered to Weiss.

Eric glanced across to where Sydney and Vaughn had been standing seconds earlier.

"Yes." He replied.

"Thank God!" Nadia responded. "Eric, I'm sorry for ruining tonight but would you mind if we left as well?"

Weiss nodded. He had sensed from the beginning that Nadia's apparent buoyant mood had been put on for her sister's benefit so he wasn't surprised at the request.

"I'll get your coat." was all he said.

"No, just a moment, give Sydney and Vaught time to get upstairs. I don't want her to see us leaving so soon after them."

Weiss was an easy-going guy and he couldn't understand how they could let pride get in the way of their developing relationship in the way they were doing. If it had been him, he would have made up the following day, but was too smart to let that show.

"Ready now?" he asked after a pause.

Nadia nodded and they left the party, heading towards the cloakroom. As they entered the hotel's Reception area they saw Sydney and Vaughn still there, talking with two strangers.

Nadia grabbed Weiss and was beginning to retreat back into the ballroom when Sydney saw her.

"Nadia!" she called. "I think these people want to speak to you too." She paused for a beat, "It appears our fathers escaped from jail this evening."

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Serena Southerlyn tried to ignore the incessant ringing of the telephone. Finally she gave up, rolled over in her bed and picked up the handset. Glancing at her alarm clock she realised it was the early hours of Christmas Day. She listened to Jack McCoy's voice with growing apprehension. Sloane and Bristow were free!

"I'll be there as soon as I can." she told her boss. "No, I realise there's nothing I can do to help with their re-capture but at least I can start preparing the additional charges they'll face when they are! No, I hadn't made any special plans for Christmas."

As she put down the phone and began shrugging into some street clothes she reflected bitterly that what she had told McCoy wasn't the entire truth. She and Jenny had been planning to spend Christmas Day together until she had pushed her away in response to Bristow and Sloane's blackmail threats. Now, they were out and she wondered, fearfully, how that would affect her situation. She castigated herself for being a coward by not coming out at work.

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Jack and Sloane quickly changed into the street clothes that had been left for them in the abandoned warehouse in an, as yet, un-gentrified part of the Brooklyn waterfront. Zipodi had dropped them there and then gone on to return the launch.

They were in the Greenpoint section and Sloane would have preferred somewhere in Red Hook, closer to Schirovsky's place of business but, given the short notice of the operation, he admitted that this was the best location available. He looked round and had to admit that Shapiro had come through. In addition to the clothes, there were several thousand dollars in old bills and identification documents in a number of different names, including four passports. All told, he was very satisfied. _Shapiro has proved he was worth the investment_ he thought.

Jack opened a large trunk and his face also took on a look of satisfaction as he dived in and took out an Uzi. As he began field stripping it he asked, "How did you get your lawyer to arrange all this?"

Sloane shrugged. "Jerry's the son of a childhood friend of mine. He couldn't afford to send him to Law School so he approached me. At the time, I felt it might be useful to have an attorney with no connections to SD-6 so I agreed. Both of them are suitably grateful."

"Clearly." Jack commented as he checked the barrel. "Especially since Shapiro's risking disbarment and prison to help you."

"Us, Jack, us." Sloane gently reminded him.

"Us then. We need to act quickly. The police will be setting up road blocks and organising a search for us. The longer we remain on the run, the more chance there is of us falling into their net. I propose we ...deal promptly… with Schirovsky and then turn ourselves in."

Sloane felt some disappointment at this. He'd been incarcerated for over two months now and was relishing his freedom. He had to agree with Jack's analysis though. It was imperative they deal with their problem quickly, after that he hoped he'd have a chance to persuade his friend that there were alternatives to letting themselves be re-taken.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Day." He looked at his watch, "Actually today's Christmas Day. He's likely to spend today and tomorrow at home on Staten Island. That's a long trip for two wanted men."

Jack brandished another gift from Shapiro, a cell phone, "Disposable and almost untraceable. I'm sure if we told Schirovsky we wanted to meet him at his warehouse, he'd come running."

Sloane nodded his agreement and smiled.

T.B.C.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Ms. Bristow…Sydney, if you have any idea where your father and Mr. Sloane are, it's not only your duty as a citizen to tell us, it's the best way you can help him. Every cop in the city is on the lookout for them and the A.P.B. says they're armed and dangerous. You say your father won't hurt an officer, but, even if that's true, all it take's is for some scared rookie to make a mistake and he could end up dead in the street. Surely you don't want that?"

Sydney stared hard at the motherly looking black woman sitting opposite her in one of the 27th Precinct's interview rooms. "I'm supposed to believe you care what happens to my father?" she asked cynically.

Lieutenant Anita van Buren sighed. "I want this situation resolved without any one getting hurt. You can believe that or not. You say your father won't attack a cop, what about Arvin Sloane? Can you be so certain about him? If your Dad's in the vicinity, the outcome will be the same, him lying on some sidewalk with his chest full of holes."

Van Buren saw she'd gotten a reaction. It was small, almost imperceptible but she was an experienced interrogator and noticed the way the young woman opposite's fingers clenched when she mentioned Sloane's name. She waited and then pressed, "You don't trust Sloane do you?"

Sydney remained silent. Finally she raised her head and looked the Lieutenant directly in the eyes. "I don't know where my father is." she said quietly, "I can't help you."

Van Buren nodded acknowledgment of the response but the chink in Ms. Bristow's armour might still be exploited. It was time for some shock tactics. She slid over a file. "OK. I'm going to leave you for a while. This file contains pictures of officer involved shootings. While I'm gone, I want you to look at them and ask if you really want your father to end up like the people there because of something Sloane might do."

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Van Buren stared through the one-way mirror into the interview room, where Detectives Mears and Kowalski were interrogating the Santos girl. A.D.A. Serena Southerlyn stood beside her. The Lieutenant had noticed that her companion was tense and nervous and wondered about the reasons. She was considering whether to broach the subject with her when the door behind them opened to admit Briscoe and Green. They moved to stand beside the two women.

Green nodded towards the interior of the interview room, "Do you think she knows anything?" he asked.

Van Buren muted the audio link to the other room. "She visited with her father the day before he crashed out." she replied. "It's possible she passed on instructions to accomplices on the outside. Even if she's innocent, he might have let something slip that could help us."

"If she does, I doubt she'll give it up." Serena noted. "She may look like a member of the Brady Bunch but she acts like she's street wise." She switched the audio back on and the two detectives listened to the conversation.

"_If you're lying to us, you'll be an accessory to a felony." _Detective Kowalski leaned aggressively towards the slight woman until his face was almost touching hers, deliberately violating her personal space. _"Heck, the D.A. could even charge you with conspiracy if he felt like it. Then they could lock you up until you're old and grey. Take it from me, lady, the company at Bedford stinks and the facilities are not what you're accustomed to. It'd be a shame to waste your best years in a hole like that; rubbing shoulders with scumbag killers, junkies and thieves."_

Ms. Santos didn't shrink away from his presence. Instead, she glared up at him. "Then it's a good thing I'm telling the truth isn't it?" she said, contempt dripping from every word and Serena turned off the audio feed.

"She's been like that ever since she got here." Van Buren confirmed.

"What about the other one, Bristow's daughter?" Lennie Briscoe asked.

Van Buren shrugged, "Pretty much the same but, if I'm any judge, she doesn't trust Sloane. I've given her something to think about and left her to stew for a while. We'll see if that adjusts her attitude. Her father was in solitary, however, so she hasn't visited for several days. She genuinely may not know anything. What about your suspect?"

"He lawyered up; we're waiting for his mouthpiece to arrive before he'll take questions." Green explained.

"Why do you think he's involved?" the Lieutenant asked. She noted the quick glance the two detectives shared with each other and their eyes flick towards A.D.A. Southerlyn, then back again.

"It's a long story." Briscoe said evasively, then changed the subject, "The APB was a bit light on facts. How did they get out?"

Van Buren considered pressing the matter but decided against it at this stage. These were her two best detectives, experience told her it was best to give them a little rope and trust them to do their job, so she answered his question. "We haven't got all the facts yet. They're still trying to put it together over at Riker's but, they had a falling out a couple of days ago. Bristow put Sloane in the Infirmary and went to the SHU as a result. Yesterday evening, he apparently tried to kill himself and was also taken to the Infirmary. It now looks like the whole thing was a set up allowing both of them to gain access to that part of the facility so they could escape. They stole a laptop from the Education Department and used it to hack into the security system. Riker's have found a hole in their security fence but how they got off the island is unknown at this point."

The important question at this stage, isn't how they escaped." Serena snapped. "It's where they are now and what they're planning."

"What about Alvarez? They could be going after him." Green suggested.

"I thought about that immediately I got the news. We've moved him and his wife to a new location and increased their protection detail." Van Buren assured him.

Someone knocked on the exterior door and a uniformed officer poked her head in. "Detective Green, Briscoe, your guy's lawyer has arrived." she reported.

"OK. Let's go see what he's got to say for himself." Briscoe said as they left the room.

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"Councillor. Sorry you've been dragged out of bed this early on Christmas Day." Briscoe's apology was blatantly insincere.

Jerry Shapiro responded aggressively. "My client tells me you came to his apartment last night and accused him to sending threatening letters to A.D.A. Southerlyn, then arrested him for being involved in an escape from Riker's Island. I take it you have some evidence to back up these allegations, because, if you don't, this looks like a classic case of police harassment and it will be my pleasure to sue this city back into the 1970's."

"First off, Mr. Shapiro, your client isn't under arrest. We invited him here to answer some questions and he kindly agreed to accompany us. Next, who said the letters sent to Ms Southerlyn were threatening? We never said that did we, Lennie?" Green replied.

"Come on Detectives," Shapiro sneered. "Why else would the police be investigating? And you haven't answered my question. What evidence do you have against my client on either of these allegations?"

"Well, don't you think it's a coincidence that Mr. Zipodi here was in the vicinity of Riker's Island at the same time one of your other clients was crashing out?"

Shapiro paused, "That sounds like an allegation against me." He said.

"Not at all Councillor; just an observation." Lennie assured him.

"I assume, therefore, you have nothing directly linking Mr. Zipodi to Mr. Sloane. He hired a boat and went out on the river yesterday evening, as I'm sure, did a lot of other people. Have you brought all of them in for questioning? I thought not!" he turned towards his client, "Melvin, I strongly advise you not to dignify these allegations with a response."

Zipodi leaned back in his chair. "Well gentlemen, you heard what my lawyer said and I always follow professional advice. Now, if I'm not under arrest, I presume I'm free to leave."

He got up and reached for his coat, draped across the back of the chair.

"Fine." grunted Briscoe. "Once we find Sloane and Bristow's prints or DNA trace on the boat you hired, you'll be right back here and then you **will** be under arrest. It's a pity for you because we might have been able to work out a deal with the D.A. if you'd co-operated but by then it'll be too late."

Both he and Green saw Zipodi glance anxiously towards his lawyer but Shapiro laughed.

"Where's your probable cause for a search warrant Detectives?" he taunted. "This ain't Texas or Florida. Judges in New York like to see some evidence, not rely on cop's gut instincts." Shapiro turned towards Zipodi, "Let's get out of here, Melvin." he said as he ushered him out of the door.

Green and Briscoe followed them out into the Squad Room. They watched as two young men dressed in tuxedos who'd been sitting on a bench in the corridor, jumped up to attract Shapiro's attention. After a few words with them, he waved for Zipodi to leave without him and sat down to talk with the strangers.

"Ms. Bristow and Ms. Santos' boyfriends," Lieutenant Van Buren's voice came from behind them, "they insisted on coming along when we picked them up."

The detectives turned to see her standing with Serena Southerlyn, watching the three men engaged in animated conversation. They glanced at each other,

"Ms. Southerlyn, can we talk privately?" Briscoe asked.

Green nodded, "Yeah. We need some legal advice."

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Jack and Sloane huddled down in the abandoned factory across from Schirovsky's Import business. The sign outside said that the building had been bought up by a property company for conversion into apartments. It looked like this was another area of Brooklyn that would soon be succumbing to "gentrification".

Sloane wondered, idly, how long Schirovsky expected to continue running his business from this location after the area was re-developed. _Although that will shortly become an academic question, _he added cheerfully.

They had contacted the man and arranged a meet for four o'clock that afternoon but both agents had been suspicious at the delay and were convinced he was setting them up to walk into a trap. They had 'borrowed' a car and made their way towards the location of the meeting intending to keep an eye on the building and note any preparations for their arrival. Making the journey before the police had had a chance to set up road blocks had been an added attraction. Sloane's local knowledge, while many years out of date had still been good enough for them to make the journey while avoiding major intersections and other danger points.

The temperature was a little below zero and the bitter wind blowing through the gaps in the wooden boards blocking the windows and doors chilled them to the bone, despite the heavy winter clothing both were wearing. Despite the uncomfortable nature of their post, both men remained alert, noting everything going on in the locale. They were old enough to remember the days when most surveillance assignments had been like this, relying on the alertness of agents, not electronic devices or eavesdropping equipment and some of them had involved even more unpleasant experiences that those they were experiencing currently.

"Do you remember that time in the Mekong Delta when we spent three days and nights in a paddy field up to our waists in water, waiting for that Chinese intelligence officer to contact the local guerrilla leader?" Sloane asked reminiscently.

Jack grunted but didn't reply. Sloane had expected that, his former partner had never wasted time on nostalgia, expect perhaps about his wife, and he'd deny that in the strongest possible terms if it had ever been suggested to him.

Jack looked at his watch, "Nearly seven o'clock. Dawn's coming."

Sloane moved silently to an eastwards facing window and gently levered the board covering it open a bit. Sure enough, the sky was less dark in that direction. As he watched, he saw a car turn off the main road, pull into the side street and move towards them.

"Jack!" he called, keeping his voice low.

His old friend joined him as they tracked the vehicle's movements until it drew to a stop outside Schirovsky's warehouse. As they stood watching, Schirovsky got out of the driver's side. Another man emerged from the passenger's side. He was young and well muscled, his manner and dress screaming 'bodyguard'. Together they hurried inside.

Both agents reached the same conclusion simultaneously and they were about to leave their hiding place when the sound of other car engines drew them, once again, to the window. They observed as several other cars and a van drew up. At least thirty men piled out of the vehicles and followed Schirovsky and his companion into the building.

Sloane turned to Jack, his eyebrows raised interrogatively. Although they had expected a trap, this was many more men than they'd thought he would be able to raise at short notice. Schirovsky was clearly better connected and financed than they'd imagined.

Jack returned the look, "We need to re-strategise." he said dryly.

The other man nodded his agreement.

T.B.C.

**Glossary**

**A.P.B. **– All Points Bulletin. Message sent to all police officers and vehicles.

**Bedford** – Woman's prison in New York State.

**1970's** – A period when New York suffered a major financial crisis, almost going bankrupt as a result.

**Probable Cause** – evidence sufficient to convince a judge to issue a search warrant.

**Search Warrant** – Legal right to enter and search an individual's home or private property.

**S.H.U** – Special Housing Unit. A prison within a prison. Housing those who have committed disciplinary infractions or require protection from fellow inmates.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Ed Green closed the door of the Interrogation Room and turned to face Serena Southerlyn. "We need a warrant to search Zipodi's boat for fingerprint and DNA evidence." he told her.

"Do you have probable cause?" Serena replied.

Lennie Briscoe took a deep breath and recounted the process that had led them to Zipodi and the conversation they had had with Shapiro. At the end of his story Serena shook her head.

"Shapiro's right. All you have is a chain of inferences linked together by what could be a series of coincidences. No judge in this State would issue a warrant on that basis."

"It might help if we knew why you asked us to find out who sent you that envelope and what was in it." Green said sourly.

Serena shook her head. "No, it wouldn't." she replied. "Even if I were to tell you, the trail from me to Zipodi is tenuous at best. You have no direct evidence he sent me the envelope and, even if you did, it's an even bigger stretch to then say that Zipodi was instrumental in Bristow and Sloane's escape."

"He works for Shapiro who's Sloane's mouthpiece. He was on the river when they crashed out and Shapiro rushed down here before dawn on a public holiday like a rocket had been lit under him!" Briscoe pointed out, frustration showing in his voice.

Serena shrugged, "He's vigorously representing his client in accordance with the canon of ethics." she said. "At least that's what he'll argue. Look, I agree with you, it adds up but, even so, I can't get a search warrant on what you have so far." She paused, "However…" she added, "you said it was a hire boat?" Seeing the two detectives nod, she went on, "If you can get the owner to give you authority to check it for fingerprints and DNA, you don't need a search warrant."

Briscoe and Green looked at each other as grins lit their faces. Then they became more serious. After a brief glance at each other, Green spoke,

"Ms Southerlyn," he began, almost gently, "Two indicted killers are at large in this City. These are guys who think before they act so we have to assume they have some sort of plan; perhaps to kill people who might testify against them at trial or to flee the country. We have to stop them and put them back behind bars quickly. You've already agreed that the chances are Zipodi must have assisted their escape and we got on to him because of you. At this stage any information may be relevant in helping us to track them down. You must tell us what was in that envelope."

Briscoe nodded, "You of all people must know you have a duty to help us. Look, we were willing to do you a favour, no questions asked but now keeping things to yourself could lead to these humps getting away. That would be obstruction of justice." He smiled and added to take the sting out of his words, "Hey, you might think it's embarrassing but, trust me, I've been in this job for twenty five years now and I've seen and heard everything!"

Serena stared at them considering. On the one hand, the saying about a secret shared no longer being a secret was true but on the other hand, they were right; she did have a duty to justice here and would never forgive herself if somehow, Bristow and Sloane were able to escape their just punishment because she'd withheld information.

She took a deep breath, "I'm a lesbian." she announced baldly, "No-one at work knows, not even Jack McCoy. The envelope I gave you contained photographs of myself with my current lover."

She watched as the two men assimilated the news.

"There was no note with the photographs?" Green asked softly.

She shook her head, "No. I later received more photographs at work. That didn't contain a note either. I assume they were intended to soften me up."

"Thanks for telling us Ms. Southerlyn." Briscoe said. "We won't mention this to anyone if we don't have to."

There was a knock on the door and all three jumped. They stared like startled deer as Lieutenant Van Buren put her head round the door.

"The Santos girls' boyfriend has just let something interesting slip." she reported. "Lennie, Ed, I need you to do some historical research."

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Anita Van Buren watched as Serena Southerlyn disappeared into the Interrogation Room with her two top detectives. This confirmed her suspicions that whatever was going on somehow involved all three of them. Once again, she considered trying to find out what it was and, once again, she decided against it. They were all mature people in whom she had the fullest trust and confidence. If she needed to know, they would tell her. She glanced towards where Shapiro was still talking to the tuxedo clad young men and, with a sigh, made her way to her office.

She had just picked up the phone to check if there had been any developments at Riker's when she saw the lawyer and the young men approaching. She put down the phone and waited for them to enter.

Shapiro burst in first, without knocking.

"I understand from Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Weiss here that you're interrogating my client's daughter and Ms. Bristow." he said, aggressively. "Why wasn't I informed of this before?"

"It's usually considered polite to knock before entering someone's office, Counsellor." Van Buren said dryly. "And why should you be told? They're here as potential witnesses, not suspects. Neither of them has asked for a lawyer and, as far as we're aware, you haven't been retained to represent either of them."

"Well, I have been now, by these gentlemen. I want to see my clients immediately!"

"Isn't there a conflict of interest here, Mr. Shapiro as you're also representing one of the guys we want to re-capture?"

"If you think that, you can report me to the Bar Ethics Committee." Shapiro snapped. "But, in the meantime, let me see my clients!"

Van Buren hesitated. Ms. Bristow had now had plenty of time to digest the graphic photographs of the officer involved shootings she'd left with her and imagine her father lying there like a rag doll in a pool of blood rather than some stranger. If she was going to be persuaded to tell what she knew, this would be the time. Once a lawyer was on the scene, the opportunity would have passed.

"Look, Lieutenant, you're wasting your time. Nadia and Sydney don't know where their fathers are. There is no need for them to know and, whatever else you and the D.A. think Jack Bristow and Arvin Sloane may be; they're professionals. They've operated all their lives in a world where maintaining security is as natural as breathing." The slender, fair haired young man pointed out, in a tone that indicated he was trying to reason with her.

_Vaughn, Michael Vaughn, _Van Buren remembered.

"And anyway," the bulkier, dark haired man, who she remembered was called Eric Weiss, added. "Syd hasn't seen her father in days and she and her sister haven't spoken since it looked like Jack beat up on Sloane."

Anita stared at Weiss in shock. "Ms. Bristow and Ms. Santos are sisters?" she said.

She saw Weiss flush red as he realised he'd let slip information the police hadn't been aware of. He opened his mouth to say something but was forestalled by Shapiro.

"Their relationship is irrelevant to the topic under discussion. I want to see them both now. No more stalling!"

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It had just gone 10:00am when Sydney and Nadia, accompanied by Vaughn, Weiss and Shapiro walked out of the 27th Precinct.

Nadia took a deep breath of the freezing air. "Ah, that's good! The way those detectives were going on, I thought I'd end up taking my father's place in prison!"

Sydney seemed pensive as she turned to Shapiro. "Thanks for getting us out." she said.

"All part of the service." he replied. "The cops now know the two of you are related. They're going to go rooting round in your pasts to find out if they can use that somehow. Now, more than ever, you need to stick together; for your fathers' sakes."

Both sisters nodded.

"We will." Nadia promised him. "Why were you at the Precinct anyway?" she asked. "I didn't call you and Eric say's he didn't either."

Shapiro laughed. "Lucky chance." he said cheerfully, "I was there with another client."

Sydney gave him a suspicious look. "That seems …very convenient. Are you sure it wasn't related to our fathers' escape?"

Shapiro's response was evasive. "I can't talk about my other clients cases with you anymore than I can talk about you with them."

Nadia grabbed his arm. "Mr. Shapiro, we're grateful to you for your help but, we're both very worried about out fathers. If you know anything that can help us, you must tell."

Shapiro courteously shook her off. "I'm sure they're both fine, Nadia, Sydney. And I'm certain that they felt they had a good reason to break out." He smiled at the girls. "They've been in the business a long time. They know how to look after themselves! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better be getting home. Happy Holiday!"

The four remaining members of the group watched him leave.

"He knows something." Weiss observed and the others nodded their agreement.

Sydney looked round at the others and spoke in a decisive tone. "Dad and Sloane don't do anything without a reason, so it must have been important for them to escape. Shapiro knows what's going on but he's been told not to talk. That means our fathers don't want us involved. Well, I'm not a little girl anymore, I don't need protecting, I'm a trained agent and I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

"Not without me!" her sister exclaimed, while the two men grunted their agreement.

"Shapiro won't talk, maybe Dad's attorney, Thirly Wilson will. Let's go see him." Sydney suggested.

As they walked along the street looking for a cab, Sydney pulled Nadia back a little so they had some privacy.

"Nadia, I'm sorry for the way I acted before. I really am trying to respect your right to build a relationship with your father but I guess it'll take a long time for me to trust him again; if ever! But, in future, I promise I'll try to wait until all the evidence is in before accusing him of anything. Can we go back to the way we were before?"

Nadia looked at Sydney, her face radiant. She didn't reply but the hug she gave her sister said more than words ever could.

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It was now past 10:00am and Jack and Sloane were still discussing their options. After half an hour or so, several of the men who'd entered Schirovsky's business premises had left to take up camouflaged positions outside. They'd tensed in case someone decided to use their building as a hiding place but they'd been lucky and no-one had. As they'd continued keeping watch, they'd noticed that after an hour or so, the men had been relieved by others. This made sense, it was a cold day and the guards were maintaining fixed posts. Frequent changes of personnel were needed to ensure they remained alert and fit for action.

Various plans had been considered and discarded. Although they had come up with a number of scenarios allowing them to successfully terminate Schirovsky, the odds on them surviving the encounter were unacceptably low, given they were heavily outnumbered and out gunned. The simplest solution was to wait for him to leave and take him out at long range. This currently seemed their best option but both men were aware of its pitfalls. Uzi's were highly efficient as assault weapons but less effective for long range surgical kills, especially when they were unfamiliar with the individual quirks of the weapons they were using. Additionally, they did not know how long they would have to wait before the target left the building. Presumably he'd wait until after the time he'd set for the meet but by then it would be dusk, reducing visibility and making target acquisition more difficult. That was even assuming he'd leave by one of the conventional exits. Although they could split up to also cover the loading bay, there was nothing to stop the man from climbing out a back window and making his way through the alleys to safety. Both shared an unspoken fear that he might already have done so.

They were also concerned at the fact that the longer they waited, the colder they would become. They were no more immune to the effects of the sub zero temperature than Schirovsky's men were. When the time came, their bodies might not be able to react as quickly or as accurately as necessary.

Sloane moved to get himself a coffee from the thermos flask. He raised an eyebrow and when Jack nodded, filled two cups, bringing them back to stand beside his old friend as they looked across at the warehouse opposite.

"We could try to work our way behind the guards and take them out one at a time." Jack muttered.

Sloane knew the suggestion was Jack's way of venting his frustration at the situation but he replied anyway. "We've considered that before Jack. We'd have to cross open ground to get to them. There's no way they wouldn't see us."

"We wait until after dark then."

"It could be too late by then. Schirovsky might have left."

"We can't just wait, hoping he's going to come out and let us have a clear shot at him from here!"

Sloane shrugged. "It's not the best plan we've ever come up with, but it's the only one we have. We need to be patient"

Just then, the stillness of the Christmas Day morning was interrupted by the wailing of a police siren in the distance. Sloane paused in the act of lifting the hot coffee cup to his lips and suddenly smiled angelically.

"Or maybe not!" he said. "Jack, listen to me. I may have an alternative."

T.B.C.

**Glossary**

**Bar Ethics Committee – **lawyers responsible for investigating allegations of unprofessional conduct by other lawyers/

**Canon of Ethics – **Set of rules setting out lawyers duties to their clients.

**Obstruction of Justice – **actions deliberately taken to interfere with legal proceedings.


End file.
